‘Know them all in time,’ said the stranger; ‘no great shakes, some of them, when you do know them. My name’s Churbett, by the bye—Fred Churbett, of The Oaks; cattle station on Banksia Creek, used to be called She-oak Flat—had to change it. Nice cattle O’Desmond let you have; got good stock, but makes you pay for them.’
‘How you have improved the old place!’ continued Mr. Churbett, as they approached the house. ‘Who would believe that so much could have been made of it? Never saw it in the palmy days of Colonel Warleigh, though. Seems to have run in the military line of ownership. The old boy kept up great state. Four-in-hand always to Yass, they say. Coachman, butler, lots of servants—convicts, of course. Awful temper; cursed freely, drank ditto. Sons not behindhand, improved upon the paternal sins—gambling, horse-racing, Old Harry generally. Had to clear out and sell. Great pull for the district having a family straight from “home” settled in it.’
‘I trust the advantage will be mutual,’ said Wilfred. ‘We hope to be neighbourly when we are quite settled. But you will understand that it has taken us a little time to shake down.’
‘Thought of that,’ said Mr. Churbett, ‘or should have had the pleasure of calling before. Trotted over to look up master “Traveller” for the muster, or should have waited another week.’
Mr. Churbett’s horses having been disposed of, he was duly introduced. He proved if anything a greater success than Mr. O’Desmond. He was musical, and the sight of the piano immediately brought up talk about the last opera he had heard in London. He was also a great reader, and after touching upon half a score of authors, promised to bring over a new book which he had just got up from town.
‘Really,’ said Annabel innocently, ‘this is a surprise. I never dreamed of getting a new book in the bush. Why, it only came out just before we left. I was longing to read it; but, of course, we were too miserable and worried. How can it have got here so quickly?’
‘Just the same way that we did, I suppose,’ said Beatrice—‘in a ship. You forget the time that has passed since we landed.’
‘Still, it is a pleasant surprise. I shouldn’t wonder, perhaps we may get some new music soon. But I should as soon have thought of a book-club in the moon.’
‘Talking of book-clubs,’ said Churbett, ‘we are trying to get up one; I hope you will join. With twelve members, and a moderate subscription, we can import a very fair lot of books every year. A brother of mine in London can choose them for us; I am to be librarian. The books are divided into sets, which each subscriber sends on in turn.’
Annabel clapped her hands. ‘How delightful! Wilfred, of course, will join. Fancy, dear, clean new books every month. Really, life is becoming quite intoxicating, and I thought we should die of dulness and ennui.’