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Six Little New Zealanders

Chapter VII — Silver Linings

page 88

Chapter VII
Silver Linings

"Every cloud has a silver lining," and "It's an ill wind that blows nobody any good."

It was rather hard that poor Tairoa had to be both a cloud and an ill wind, but the uncles pensioned him off and sent him back to his own people who would look after him. So it really wasn't so bad for him. Uncle John said that the fit must have been coming on for some time, but the boys were really to blame for its final development. You see, they had borrowed his mere and his mat, and teased him and laughed at him when, he demanded them back. Poor old Tairoa, I really felt sorry for him, though I was relieved when he drove with McPherson through the white gates, bound for the railway station and the north express. Jan, Pipi and I stood on the top of the bank to wave "Good-bye," but I did not feel safe till I saw the buggy disappearing in a cloud dust down the white thread of the road.

"And that's the last of Tairoa," said Jan mourn-fully.

But it wasn't the last of the adventure, for Jock was in bed with croup for nearly a week, and Mr. page 89McLennan sent his boys back to school straight away —with three weeks of the holiday still to go. Alan, however, returned very suddenly a fortnight later, and didn't go back again to town. I think he had been the leader in a big row at the school, and the masters decided that things would get along better without him. But after this, as he had very little to occupy his time, he spent half of it at Kamahi, and the other half Rob helped him waste at The Point. Uncle John did not like the friendship at all, and every second day we were treated to a scene when uncle stormed and Rob argued, and really Rob got quite the best of it too—which didn't improve things in the least.

About the silver lining and the good from the wind? Well, that was Denise and no lessons for a fortnight. Denise had been so upset by the whole thing that for a while everyone was very anxious about her. But the doctor declared that time would work wonders; she had had a shock and must be kept perfectly still, and rest both day and night. So Uncle John extended our holidays for another two weeks, and you will believe me when I say that we raised no objection.

She took all her meals with us in the nursery, and breakfast and tea were the jolliest times of the day; more than once Rob joined us, preferring fun and bread-and-butter in the nursery to grandeur and late page 90dinner in the dining-room. Every single one of us were sorry when the fortnight came to an end and Mr. McLennan drove over for her in the big red motor. She wanted to carry me back to The Point with her for a fortnight's visit, but Uncle Stephen said I had got to think of study for a while.

We had lessons only in the morning, which was very fortunate, as there was always something going on outside in which we wanted to share. First there was the mustering, when the sheep were brought in from the outlying parts of the station for the dipping, and the shearing. Occasionally Uncle Stephen took Jan with him—she had learned to ride splendidly— and when we were sitting down to lessons in the schoolroom we would see her going off with the uncles and Rob. At the end of the day they would come in again driving the sheep they had gathered in from the hills which marked the northern boundary of the estate, or from the plain country which sloped right down to the sea. We used to sit at the top of the bank and watch for them till we could hear the barking of the dogs and see the clouds of dust in the distance.

Mustering was interesting enough, but chiefly so to Jan. Jock, Pipi and I couldn't share in the exciting rides across the river bed, up the wild hillside, over the slippery tussocks and down into the rough gullies, where the dogs sought the sheep in hidden corners page 91and rounded them up with the rest of the mob. Sometimes they brought in a "hermit" sheep which lived by itself and had been overlooked in the last muster. Such a queer, shaggy-looking bundle, with wool falling over its eyes and touching the ground. I am sure the poor animal must have thanked the shearers when they removed the cumbersome fleece and gave it an uninterrupted view of the world again.

But if we could not share in the mustering we could watch the dipping, when the sheep, with many protesting "baa-s," were driven into the big disinfectant' tank.

Kathie, looking very pink and pretty, used to stroll down to talk to Uncle Dan, and then uncle would escort her back to the house and stay drinking tea till Uncle John or Uncle Stephen routed him out and drove him back to his work again.

But when shearing began Uncle Dan hadn't time for morning or afternoon teas any longer.

The shearers started work so early in the morning that it seemed like the middle of the night. Before the sun was up, and when the air was cold and grey, we would hear the bell summoning them to breakfast. Then we would snuggle down between the blankets and settle ourselves for a comfortable sleep again.

All day long the men laboured, handling the poor page 92frightened sheep, shearing off their fleeces with a rapidity which was almost alarming. Once or twice -Uncle John took Jan and me to see the work, but we did not stay long. I hated the sight of the big, cruel-looking knives, and Jan said the whirr of the machinery made her head ache. The men themselves looked so fiercely hot under the grime that I did not wonder at the number of "smoke-ohs" they demanded. "Smoke-ohs" are tea intervals, you know.

After the shearing was finished the shearers gave a dance in the woolshed, and Kathie and Rob went down for an hour or two with the uncles. I would describe it to you—I know you would like to hear about a shearers' ball—only unfortunately I wasn't present, being in bed instead. Jan, Jock and Pipi were also in bed, as Uncle John said such festivities were not for children.

Six o'clock marked the close of the working day, and in the evening the men would lounge about in front of the whare talking among themselves. One, of the shearers, who was an Englishman called Surrey, had a banjo, and he used to sing nigger melodies to its accompaniment. Uncle John always snorted angrily when he spoke of this man. He had not been quite good at home in England, I think, so his people had shipped him off right away to the Colonies.

page 93

Pipi and I used to steal out of bed and hide behind the veranda creepers and listen to the singing. It was so beautiful that it hurt. The nights were very, very still, with only a faint murmur in the tree-tops, where the wind stirred in its sleep. Overhead the sky was inky black, set with thousands of little stars, and the soft, dewy air was stealing the sweetness from the roses and jessamine and the great banks of wallflowers which were heaped up beneath the matapo hedge.

Mostly Surrey sang sad songs, with the men joining the choruses, and a hard, strangling lump used to come into my throat as I listened. It was a lovely sadness, though, with a thought of mother and how good I meant to be and how bad I was. Sometimes we would hear the uncles walking about the garden and see the red tips of their cigars, and once we were nearly caught.

We had slipped out of the bedroom window and made for our usual hiding-place, and it wasn't till we were almost on top of them that we saw that Uncle Dan and Kathie had engaged it for the evening. I gave a little squeak and Pipi jumped, and we both scudded back to bed. They never heard us, though, they were so interested in their conversation.

The station seemed very quiet when the shearers had gone. There was no music in the evenings page 94now, but we used to creep out of bed to watch the bush fires on the hills across the river. Pipi would shiver and shake when she saw the sweeping flames lighting up the darkness of the night and felt the blinding, choking smoke which hung like a curtain between heaven and earth. It was stiflingly hot, and in the day the sun shone like a blood-red ball, and made you think of the end of the world and all big and terrible things. " Several squatters had lost hundreds of sheep, and on Wai-iti Estate the flames had devoured the homested and the woolshed, where the wool was still waiting in bales to be carted to the station the following week.

Poor Uncles Three! They little thought when they sympathised with Mr. Thomas, of Wai-iti Station, that calamity was nearing their own door. In fact, it knocked and entered the very next day, and, do you know, I opened the door and showed it the way, and set things going nicely.

I know it was my fault, but so many things are my fault that I really lose count of them all. It happened on a nor'-wester day, and I was responsible for the whole catastrophe; I mean I was responsible for the blaze and the loss of the barn, the haystacks, a field or two of oats, two plantations, and a few other trifles. Of course, I couldn't help the nor'-wester, which is a hot wind that blows across the Canterbury Plains and makes you feel that life isn't page 95worth' living, that it is a pity you were ever born, and that ice-cream is the only dish you could fancy.

At least, that is how Kathie felt; Jan, Pipi and I rejoiced in the broiling, blustering winds.

Well, this particular day Kathie came into lessons looking as limp as an unstarched muslin dress. She sank into a chair, looked around wearily, and fixed her eyes upon Jan.

"There are one, two, three, four, five buttons missing from your blouse," she complained, "and raspberry stains all down the front of your skirt. Seriously, Jan, you are a disgrace. Why don't you try to be tidier, girl?"

Jan did not answer, but her mouth hardened ominously as she applied herself to her geography.

Kathie provided Jock and Pipi with spelling-books, looked at me and pointed to an arithmetic, and then turned to dispute with Jan over the spelling of Popocatapetl. Jan said it was "Popocatopetle"; Kathie insisted on "Popacatapetel." And when they looked it up in the geography book it was "Popocatapetl."

Over went the ink, which Pipi mopped up with her handkerchief.

"Don't," said Kathie in a weak little voice, so Pipi didn't; and when Kathie came\round to correct her exercise she put her sleeve in the middle of the mess and soaked it up nicely.

page 96

The last straw breaks the camel's back. The nor'-wester had strained Kathie's endurance, but ink down the sleeve of a. new crepe dress just finished her off. She stood up suddenly and threw out her arm with a dramatic gesture.

"It's no good teaching you—absolutely none. You're too silly and careless for anything. You— you—Have you finished your sums, Ngaire?"

"No—not quite."

As a matter of fact, I was just thinking of making a start, but I didn't care to go into 'details.

"Of course not. Why should you'? Why should any of you bother? Play with ink instead. You know enough; there's no need to study anything else."

"More than we can say for you."

Kathie looked at Jan, her cheeks very pink.

"There you go again. I suppose you think it shows how clever you are. You're nothing but a little girl. You—you—you can teach yourself. You can all teach yourselves. I wouldn't do it again for a pension—no—not if—I wouldn't teach you again—

She caught her breath in a little sob and made a dash for the door, and perhaps wouldn't have come back and taught us ever again had she not run right into Uncle Stephen. Strangely enough, he did not notice the tears in her eyes nor the redness of Jan's page break
"I stood with bulging eyes and my mouth wide open, too horrified to scream."—page 77.

"I stood with bulging eyes and my mouth wide open, too horrified to scream."
—page 77.

page 97cheeks. He went straight to the chair at the head of the table and sat down, while I rubbed out my sum as quickly as ever as I could, so that he should not ask me to work it for him; Pipi mopped away at the ink on the table, and jock put his reading book under the table and lost it.

"I thought I'd be inspector and conduct a little examination to-day," announced uncle cheerfully.

"Oh!" Kathie gave a little gasp, a twisted smile, and a vague, unhappy look around; Pipi sat up very straight and tried to look like a Christmas card angel; while Jock put his foot on his book and kept it there. That book wasn't going to be found if he could help it.

I repeated my pence table and avoirdupois weight over to myself, but as I couldn't remember how many pence made a pound, or how many drams went to the ounce, my time was rather wasted.

Jan looked at uncle, and remembered the raspberry stains and the missing buttons; then tried to remedy matters a little by securing her collar with a crooked pin which missed the lace and went into her neck instead.

Uncle began by examining us all, but soon he dropped Jock, Pipi and me and devoted himself to Jan, who quite excelled herself, answering so brilliantly that he seemed really astonished and more than a little interested. Poor old Kathie sat up very page 98straight in her chair watching them, and every time uncle asked Jan a particularly hard question she fidgeted and giggled nervously. You see, she hadn't the vaguest notion of the answer, and was afraid that uncle would start examining her too. At last she could stand it no longer. She rose suddenly.

"I—I think I hear Mrs. McPherson calling me/' she said, and went out and didn't return.

Soon after Pipi thought she heard Mrs. McPherson calling her too. Uncle paused in the middle of a discussion with Jan about Alexander or Bacon, or somebody or something just as terrible.

"I think I hear her too," he said, and the little laugh-wrinkles gathered round his eyes. "Out into the sunshine with you, little dunces. 'Gather ye rosebuds while ye may.' I'm going to take this sister of yours in hand and teach her myself after this, and perhaps I'll have time enough for the rest of you. Off with you!"

We went. We got out as quickly as we could, so that uncle shouldn't have time to change his mind and start on us straight away.

Jock and Pipi went up the water race and I set off to find Rob. He had promised to let me drive with him to see some sheep he was looking after two or three miles away.

But when I found him I found Alan McLennan too.

page 99

They were setting out for Glenroyal together, and would not return until late in the evening.

Of course, I know that boys of sixteen don't want to be bothered with little girls of not quite thirteen. Still—

I hate Alan McLennan.