Back Aa

Pioneers, The

Close

<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> The school had been working for over three years when Mrs. Cameron and the Schoolmaster came to an agreement by which Davey was to have extra lessons after school hours—to learn something of foreign languages, and of the higher mathematics, not to speak of other odds and ends of knowledge that Mr. Farrel might consider part of that "liberal education" she was so anxious he should acquire—and Deirdre was to stay with Mrs. Cameron for a while, and learn to cook and sew, and, generally, to practise woman's ways about a house. It was bareback on Lass, that Davey and Deirdre came jogging along the road from school for the first time. Mrs. Cameron heard their shrill, joyous voices long before they emerged from the cover of the trees; then she watched them climbing the track across the rise, straddling the old horse's fat sides, Deirdre with her arms round Davey's waist, the red handkerchief containing her wardrobe in his left hand, fast in Lass's matted mane. He gave the old mare a flick, now and again, with a stripped branch he had in his right hand, though it made no more impression than a fly alighting on her thick hair. She kept on at her steady, jogging pace until they were against the yard gate. Mrs. Cameron laughed when she saw them. She kissed Deirdre and took the red bundle from Davey's hand. "Father says," Deirdre said, a quaint air of sedateness settling down on her, "that he's 'shamed to send me without stockings or a wedding garment, Mrs. Cameron. But if you will get what is necessary for me next time you go to the Port he will be—what was it, Davey?" "Extremely obliged," Davey replied carefully. "Mr. Farrel says that he's bought her shoes and stockings over and over again, mother, but she won't wear them." "There's two shoes in the 'possum's nest by our house, and a pair of boots in the creek," Deirdre admitted with a sidelong look at him. While Davey took Lass to the paddock on the top of the hill, Deirdre went indoors with Mrs. Cameron. She had never been away from her father before. At first she had been surprised at the suggestion of going anywhere without him, but he had told her that she was going to learn to be like Mrs. Cameron—a good housewife—so that she could look after him and their home as well as a grown woman; and she was delighted at the idea. Jogging up the hills behind Davey, she had not realised that she was to spend the night away from "Dan," as he was to her in all her tense moments. It was only when she went into the tiny, box-like, paper-covered room with two little white beds in it that she began to understand this. She gazed at the room, she had never seen anything like it, with its white covers, little cupboard with a mirror on it, and papered walls spread with red and brown flowers. "You must wash your face and hands, and feet, Deirdre," Mrs. Cameron said, "and then I'll bring you a pair of Davey's shoes and stockings to wear until I can get others for you." She unknotted the red handkerchief. The two or three little garments of coarse calico it contained had been washed and rough-dried. Mary turned them over critically. "Dan washed them himself," Deirdre said, sullenly sensing the criticism. "He put them under his bed and slept on them so that they would look nice this morning. He sewed up the holes, too. And he said 'O God!' when he folded them up and put them in the handkerchief." Mrs. Cameron stared at the clothes, her heart sore for the Schoolmaster and his attempt to send the child to her with all her little belongings neatly mended and in order. There was silence a moment. Then Deirdre started away from her. "I don't want to stay here!" she cried. "Deirdre!" Mrs. Cameron was amazed at the change that had come over the sunny, little face. "I want Dan! I want to go home," Deirdre cried passionately. "I don't want to stay here. I don't want to be like you! I want—want Dan." She brushed past Mrs. Cameron and ran out of the house. Mrs. Cameron went after her, calling her, but Deirdre, a light, flying figure, ran on, sobbing; the trees swallowed her. "Where's the child?" Davey asked, with the easy superiority of his extra years, when he came down from the stables and found his mother standing at the gate, looking down the track Deirdre and he had just come by. "She's gone, Davey," Mrs. Cameron cried distressfully. "Gone—where?" "Home!" "She went down the track?" he asked. Mrs. Cameron nodded, tears of disappointment in her eyes. She had been looking forward to having a little girl to teach and look after as though she were her own. Davey set off at a run. It was nearly an hour later that he returned, a kicking, struggling, scratching, little creature in his arms. He released his hold of her as he entered the kitchen, threw her from him, and slammed the door behind him. "There, scratch cat!" he cried fiercely. "Next time you try to run away remember what the Schoolmaster said: 'If you love me, Deirdre, you'll be good to Mrs. Cameron and do what she wants you to!'" Deirdre had dropped to the floor and was crying, wildly, furiously. Davey stared at her. "If you don't stop that howling and yelling at once, I'll ride over and tell him how you're behaving," he said. "And then what'll he say?" Deirdre's sobbing subsided. There was a heavy step outside. Donald Cameron opened the kitchen door. "What's this?" he asked, looking down on the huddled heap on the floor that was Deirdre. He glanced questioningly from his wife to Davey. "It's the Schoolmaster's little girl!" Mrs. Cameron explained. "She's never been away from him before, and—" "Well, we can't have this noise in the place," he said irritably. Deirdre had looked up at the sound of that harsh voice. The sight of Davey's father quelled her. "Take her away and see that she gets ready for tea, Davey," Mrs. Cameron said anxiously. Although Deirdre made no more noise, she sat shivering and quivering all the evening, her eyes vacant of all but an inexpressible misery, her thin little body shaken by long, gasping breaths. Mrs. Cameron tried to comfort and console her, talking to her gently and lovingly as she put her to bed, but the child's mind was adamant. "I want Dan! I want Dan!" she sobbed. And in the morning when Mrs. Cameron went into her room, the window was open and the little white bed empty. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2