They reached Sydney, by coach and train, without mishap or difficulty. The children were joyous, and unceasing in their wonder and admiration of wayside novelties, including snow, to a fall of which they were, for the first time in their lives, introduced.
The day on which they re-entered Sydney will always be marked with a white stone in the annals of the family. It was the opening month of the southern spring, and no more brilliant specimen of that gladsome season could have been presented to the eyes of the travellers. They had left a region where, though the climate was comparatively mild, the lingering winter months were austere. Hence the semi-tropical warmth of the air, the [91] ]blue, cloudless sky of the metropolis, were grateful as novelties to the wayfarers from the interior. The younger olive-branches had of course in their ten years’ sojourn rarely seen the sea; the elder ones had but dim remembrance of it; and when the first sight of the historic harbour burst upon their gaze from the balcony of their hotel, a cry of wonder and amazement could not be suppressed, in spite of the nurse’s remonstrance.
‘Not quite so much noise, my dears!’ said the watchful mother. ‘You must learn not to shout and cry out at everything you see, or else people will think you are wild bush children, that have never been taught anything. You will see so many new things every day.’
‘Yes, we know, mother,’ said the eldest girl. ‘But there is only one harbour! Doesn’t it look bright and beautiful to-day? It is almost calm, like a great lake. How the little white-sailed boats go skimming over it, like sea-birds! There is a beautiful ship being towed in by a little tug steamer. And, oh, here comes the mail-boat; how quiet and dignified she is! She wants no tug, does she? That’s the best of a steamer: she can get along, fair weather or foul.’
‘Sometimes, when a great storm catches her, even she has to “slow down,” as sailors say; but generally, of course, she is independent of wind and weather. And now it is nearly lunch time, so we must all go and get ready.’
‘I went out in a sailing-boat,’ said Reggie, with an air of experience, ‘last summer when I was down. Didn’t she lean over, too? But, oh, how [92] ]she did cut through the water! It was grand. And another day Mr. Northam took out me and the Merton boys in his steam-yacht to Middle Harbour. I liked that almost better. We had such a jolly lunch, and went on shore afterwards. It was ever so hot, so we bathed, and ate rock oysters, and had no end of fun. The country’s all very well, but give me the sea at Christmas time.’
‘You’ll be at the King’s School next week,’ said his mother, with quiet emphasis, ‘so I advise you to make the most of your time for a few days. I can’t have you idling about town, and losing precious opportunities.’
Reggie’s face fell just the least bit at this announcement, but soon recovered its uniformly cheerful expression.
‘Can’t we stay till we go into the new house; that won’t be long, I suppose?’
‘Not a day longer than I can help, my boy. School is your most important affair for the next three or four years, and your father expects you to distinguish yourselves—that is, you and Eric; Jack must stay with Miss Charters for another year. Just fancy what a fine time you’ll have! Ever so many playfellows—cricket and football, hare and hounds, steeplechases, all kinds of games. You’ll be so happy after the first week that you won’t want to come home.’