Life on the whole was very happy. There were bad days, of course; days when the oil for the stove failed, and all the firewood was wet and declined to burn—or when there was none at all, and Tom and Horrors were away in the paddocks, so that there was nothing for Aileen to do but take the axe and go for some herself. She developed a queer fondness for using the axe, and preferred it to any other form of exercise; it was so interesting, she said, to see how seldom you could hit twice in the same place! Days came, too, when, everything went wrong: when cooking was a failure, and ironing only scorched the clothes, and the baker failed to come and the milk turned sour for no apparent reason; and worse days still, when, perhaps, a headache or a bad night made the world go awry, and everything seemed to conspire to irritate; when Garth might be provoking or Tom be so busy in the paddocks as to forget dinner-time, arriving in a leisurely fashion half an hour late. Those were days when sharp words sprang to the lips unbidden, and had to be fought back. It was sometimes necessary to pray very hard at her quaint little supplication—"Lord, keep me from gettin' sour!"
She helped herself by contrasting her lot with that of hundreds of women whose life was so much harder—who had half a dozen little children about therr busy feet, and perhaps half a dozen rough men for whom to cook and clean. She knew what therr homes were like—comfortless, rough, and bare, with neither daintiness nor convenience. She had every labour-saving device that Tom could procure her: they had nothing but such primitive arrangements as their grandmothers had had when the country was new. They worked early and late and grew old and worn-out long before their time; but still, they worried along, and reared their swarm of babies into tall men and women, a credit to their country: and they were happy, and would not change their lot, so long as the babies lived, and the husband was kind. She felt herself a butterfly beside them—even when she looked at her roughened hands, stained with earth, and contrasted them with the memory of the pink nails she used to manicure in the "House Beautiful."
Life was not all work. They took long drives into the country, jogging behind Roany along lanes where the narrow track wound in and out among clumps of tea-tree and stunted gums, skirting fallen logs and ancient stumps. Aileen and Garth learned to drive, as well as to harness Roany and get the buggy ready. Tom laughed at her for insisting on the last, but Aileen stuck to her point—a woman in the Bush could not be too independent, she said. Garth's education in riding had gone ahead as soon as his wrist was strong enough; and now he and Jane had fought many a tussle together until Jane unwillingly admitted that the small boy was master, and submitted with meekness, if not with enjoyment, to being galloped round the paddocks barebacked. Best of all was the motor-boat—no new thing to them, since in the old days they had often made excursions in one up and down the Yarra and into the great, placid expanse of Port Phillip Bay. But boating near the city was a different matter to exploring the by-ways of the lakes, away from the track of steamers and fishing-boats, finding little hidden bays and islands, and coming home brown and hungry, and laden with fish. On the hot days they bathed in these quiet corners: or sometimes, landing on the farther shore, climbed the hummocks until they came in sight of the Southern Ocean, pounding on the narrow strip of land which holds it back from the lakes. Then came the most glorious bathes of all—when they ran down the sand-hills and into the sea, each holding a hand of Garth's—and the great rollers came curling in and took them and buffeted and battered them, until they were swept far up on the smooth beach, breathless and laughing, and ready to run back and dive into the next breaker. Then, when they were too breathless to fight the rollers any more, it was good to dress quickly in nooks in the hot sand; to climb back to a sheltered hollow in the hummocks, where the sea-breeze could not scatter the ashes of their fire, and boil the billy and grill fish over driftwood embers—fish that had been swimming in the lake an hour before.
Once or twice they made a day's excursion to Bairnsdale—going up by the early steamer through the morning freshness of lake and river, spending a few hours in the pleasant town on the bank of the Mitchell, and returning in the afternoon—no longer the tired strangers that had made the first journey in the spring, but worthy settlers happily coming home. The peach orchards had flung a dress of palest pink over the sunny Bairnsdale hillsides when they first came: now they were densely green, with splendid fruit turning rosy under the leaves; and the flats along the backwater were bearing stately crops of maize. It was pleasant to be in a town again; to wander about the wide streets and trim gardens, and to see new faces; and to dine at an hotel was a real excitement—not to know, as Aileen said joyfully, what the pudding would be, nor to care who would wash up afterwards! But there was happiness in going home to the little house on the hill, where the bright sitting-room smiled a welcome, and even Horrors' stolid face would expand into a grin as they approached. Nothing would ever make Horrors intelligent. But kindness and cleanliness had had a softening effect upon him, and he had developed a queer, dog-like affection for them all.
The farm showed signs of paying. Fruit and vegetables brought in a small but steady income, and as fast as one crop was exhausted another was sown. Ignorance and brains combined do not make a bad working outfit. Tom Macleod knew his limitations, and was thankful for Nick O'Connor's guidance and 'Possum's helping hand; but in addition he read widely on farming matters, studied his land, and sent samples of the different soils to Melbourne for analysis. Expert advice as to manures came back; and since his business training had taught him what many farmers never learn—that it is wise to spend money in order to gather it—he bought artificial fertilizers for his land and food for his calves, and already had some reward in the promise of heavy crops and in sleek, quickly-growing animals. It left them with very little money to spend. But then, it was comforting that there was not much chance of spending. The farm gave them butter and milk and cream, fresh eggs and chickens, fruit and vegetables and honey. One pig had already been converted into pork and bacon, under the direction of Mr. O'Connor; another promised a further supply for the winter. The lake was close at hand, swarming with fish; occasionally a rabbit fell to Tom's gun, and there were visions of duck-shooting ahead. Garth and Aileen scarcely ate meat at all: Tom ate less than he had ever done, and felt all the better for his change of food. Except for their modest supply of groceries, there was little need to spend.
Meanwhile, their coming meant wealth to 'Possum. When she worked for them, using her father's horses, she carefully handed half her day's pay to Nick; but on the days when she jogged over on her own old grey and used only her own muscles, the money went to swell her little account in the Savings Bank—the only building in the township that she was supposed to enter with pleasure. The account had grown but slowly before the Macleods came; now it was swelling in the most delightful fashion.
"What are you going to do with it, 'Possum?" Aileen asked her.
"Oh, I d'no," 'Possum answered. "You never know when you'll want a bit of money. Me Dad's all right about payin' for boots an' things, so long as we don't come it too strong; but he'd never understand some ways of spendin' money."
"What ways? Tell me, 'Possum."
"Well, there's the kids. Bill may want to go to Melbourne for the Show some day, or to the Cup; an' Bert an' Polly'll be gettin' bigger, an' p'raps there'll be parties an' darnces comin' along, an' they got to have decent clothes. Dad 'ud never understand; he'd think they could go all right in whatever they happened to have on. But they got ideas. They been with other girls at the school, y' see. I couldn't have 'em cut out by a parcel of kids not half as good-lookin' as they are. I'm goin' to get them dresses for the regatta on New Year's Day. All Sale an' Bairnsdale comes down then, an' my kids got to look as well as any of 'em."