 Part 2 Chapter 7 Not twenty-four hours later Sarah had an accident to her mâchoir and returned post-haste to Melbourne. A most opportune breakage said Marnie, and laughed. That day at the dinner-table he had given his sister-in-law a piece of his mind. Sarah had always resented the name bestowed on her by her parents, and was at present engaged in altering it, in giving it, so to speak, a foreign tang. Henceforth she was to be not Sarah, but Sarah, spelt S-A-R-A. As often as Polly's tongue tripped over the unfamiliar syllable, Sarah gently but firmly put her right, and Polly corrected herself, even begged pardon for her stupidity, until Marnie could bear it no longer. Taking politeness to the winds he twitted Sarah with her finical affectations, her old-madeish ways, the morning sloth that expected Polly, in her delicate state of health, to carry a breakfast-trade at the bedside, cast up at her in short all that made him champ and fret in silence. Sarah might, after a fitting period of the huff, have overlooked the rest, but the old-madeish she could not forgive, and directly dinner was over the mishap to her mouthpiece was made known. Too much in awe of Marnie to stand up to him, for when he was angry he was very angry. Sarah retaliated by abusing him to Polly as she packed her trunk. Manors indeed, to turn an insult at visitor at his own table, and who and what is he I should like to know to speak to me so? Nothing but a common storekeeper. My dear, you have my deepest sympathy, it's a dreadful life for you. Of course you keep everything as nice as possible under the circumstances, but the surroundings, Polly, and the store, and the want of society, I couldn't put up with it, not for a week. Polly, sitting on the side of the tester-bed and feeling very cast down at Sarah's unfriendly departure, shed a few tears at this. For part of what her sister said was true, it had been wrong of Richard to be rude to Sarah while the latter was a guest in his house, but she defended him warmly. I couldn't be happier than I am, Richard's the best husband in the world, as for his being common, Sarah, you know he comes of a much better family than we do. My dear, common is as common does, and a vulgar calling ends by vulgarising those who have the misfortune to pursue it. But there's another reason, Polly, why it's better for me to leave you. There are certain circumstances, my dear, in which, to put it mildly, it's awkward for two people of opposite sexes to go on living under the same roof. Sarah, I mean, Sarah, do you really mean to say Hempel has made you a proposal? cried Polly, wide-eyed in her tears. I won't say, my dear, that he has so far forgotten himself as to actually offer marriage, but he has let me see only too plainly what his feelings are. Of course I've kept him in his place, the preposterous creature, but all the same it's not comel foe any longer for me to be here. Did she say where she was going or what she intended to do? Marnie inquired of his wife that night as she bound the strings of her nightcap. No, she hadn't, Polly admitted, rather, out of countenance, but then Sarah was like that, very close about her own affairs. I think she's perhaps gone back to her last situation. She had several letters while she was here in that lady's hand. People are always glad to get her back. Not many finishing governesses can teach all she can. And Polly checked off Sarah's attainments on the fingers of both hands. She won't go anywhere under two hundred a year. A most accomplished person, your sister, said Marnie sleepily, still it's very pleasant to be by ourselves again, eh, wife? An even more blessed piece shortly descended on the house, for the time was now come to get rid of the children as well. Since nothing had been heard of John they were to be boarded out over Polly's illness. Through the butcher's lady arrangements were made with a trooper's wife, who lived outside the racket and dust of the township, and had a whole posse of little ones of her own. Bless you, half a dozen more wouldn't make any difference to me, there's the paddock from to run wild in. This was the best that could be done for the children. Polly packed their little kit, dealt out a parting bribe of barley sugar, and saw them hoisted into the tray that would pass the door of their destination. Once more husband and wife sat alone together as in the days before John's domestic catastrophe, and now Marnie said tentatively, Don't you think, love, we could manage to get on without that old beamish woman? I'll guarantee to nurse you as well as any female alive." The question did not come as a surprise to Polly, she'd already put it to herself. After the affair with Sara she awaited her new visitor in fear and trembling. Sara had at least stood in awe of Richard and held her tongue before him. Mrs. Beemish prided herself on being afraid of nobody and on always speaking her mind. And yet even while agreeing that it would be well to put mother off, Polly drooped her wings. At a time like this a woman was a woman. It seemed as if even the best of husbands did not quite understand. Just give her the hint we don't want her, said Marnie airily. But mother was not the person to take a hint no matter how broad. It was necessary to be blunt to the point of rudeness, and Polly spent a difficult hour over the composition of her letter. She might have saved her pains. Mrs. Beemish replied that she knew her darling little Polly's unwillingness to give trouble, but it was not likely she would now go back on her word. She had been packed and ready to start for the past week. Polly handed the letter to her husband and did not say what she thought she read out of it, namely that mother, who so seldom could be spared from home, was looking forward with pleasure to her trip to Ballarat. I suppose it's a case of making the best of a bad job, sighed Marnie, and having one day drawn Mrs. Beemish at melting-point from the inside of a crowded coach he loaded long gym with her bags and bundles. His version was not lightened by his subsequently coming on his wife in the act of unpacking a hamper, which contained half a ham, a stone jar of butter, some homemade loaves of bread, a bag of vegetables, and a plum pudding. Good God! Does the woman think we can't give her enough to eat? he asked testily. He had all the poor Irishman's distrust of a gift. She means it kindly, dear. She probably thought things were still scarce here, and she knew I wouldn't be able to do much cooking, pleaded Polly, and going out to the kitchen she untied the last parcel in which was a big round cheese, by stealth. She had pulled Mrs. Beemish over the threshold, had got her into the bedroom, and shut the door before any of the o's and r's she saw painted on the broad Rubicon face could be transformed into words. And hugs and kisses over she bravely seized the wall by the horns, and begged her guest not to criticise house or furnishings in front of Richard. It took Mrs. Beemish a minute or two to grasp her meaning. Then she said heartily, There, there, my duck, don't you worry, I'll be as mum as mum. And in a whisper, So he's got a temper, Polly, has he? But this I will say, if I'd known this was all he had to offer, I'd have said, Stop where you are, my lamb, in a comfortable, happy home. Oh, I am happy, mother, dear, indeed I am, cried Polly. I've never regretted being married, never once. There, there, now. And it's only, I mean, this is the best we can afford in the meantime, and if I'm satisfied, floundered Polly, dismayed to hear her words construed into blame of her husband. It's only that it upsets Richard if people speak slightly of our house, and that upsets me. And I mustn't be worried just now, you know, she added, with a somewhat shaky smile. Not a word will I say, ducky, make your poor little mind easy about that. There's such a pokey little encoop of a place I never was in. And while tying her cap-strings Mrs. Beemish swept the little bedroom in its sloping roof with a withering glance. I was horrified, girl, simply horrified, she related the incident to her daughters, and I up and told her so, just like me, you know. Not room enough to swing a cat in, and him sitting at the edge of the table as I and mighty as a duke. You can thank his stars, you too, he didn't take one of you instead of Polly. But this was chiefly by way of a consolation prize for Tillie and Ginny. Now, my dear, tell me everything. With these words Mrs. Beemish spread her skirts and settled down to a cosy chat on the subject of Polly's hopes. But like the majority of her sex she was an adept at dividing her attention, and while making delicate inquiries of the young wife she was also travelling her shrewd eye around the little bed-chamber, spying out and appraising. Not one of poor Polly's makeshifts escaped her. The result of her inspection was to cause her to feel justly indignant with Marnie. The idea—him to rob them of Polly just to dump her down in a place like this—should never be able to resist telling him what she thought of him. Here, however, she reckoned without Polly. Polly was sharp enough to doubt mother's ability to hold her tongue and saw to it that Richard and she were not left alone together, and of an evening when talk languished she would beg her husband to read to them from the Ballarat star until as often as not Mrs. Beemish fell asleep. She persuaded him to go out and take a hand in a newly formed whist-club or discuss politics with a neighbour. Marnie went willingly enough. His home was less home than ever since the big woman's intrusion. Even his food lost its savor. Mrs. Beemish had taken over the cooking, and she went about it with an air that implied he had not had a decent bite to eat since his marriage. There! What do you cite at that now? That's something like a pudding! But a great plum duff was plonked triumphantly down in the middle of the dinner-table. Loar, Polly, a bit of a kitchen in this weather, unfair-dished! And the good woman mopped her streaming face and could herself eat nothing. Marnie much preferred his wife's cooking, which took a count of his tastes. It was done, too, without any fuss, and he persisted in upholding Polly's skill in face of Mrs. Beemish's good-natured disbelief. Polly, on edge, lest he should openly state his preference, helplessly held out her plate. It's so good, mother, I must have a second helping, she declared, and then, without appetite, in the cruel midday heat did not know what to do with the solid slab of pudding. Pompey and Palmerston got into the way of sitting very close to her chair. She confided to Richard that Mrs. Beemish disapproved of his evening outings. Many anulspan tikes to going out at such a time, my dear, and never gets back the habit of stopping at home. So just you be careful, Ducky. This was a standing joke between them. Marnie would wink at Polly when he put his hat on, and wear it rakishly askew. However, he quite enjoyed a crack with the postmaster or the town surveyor at this juncture. Colonial politics were more interesting than usual. The new constitution had been proclaimed, and a valiant effort was being made to form a cabinet, to induce that was a sufficient number of well-to-do men to give up time to the service of their country. It looked as if the attempt were going to fail, just as on the goldfields, the local courts by which, since the stockade the diggers governed themselves, were failing, because none could afford to spend his days sitting in them. Yet, however high the discussion ran, he kept one ear turned towards his home. Here things were at a standstill. Polly's time had come and gone, but there was no end said to their suspense. It was blazing hot now in the little log-house, walls and roof for black-with-flies, mosquitoes made the nights hideous. Even Polly lost patience with herself when morning after morning she got up feeling as well as ever, and knowing that she had to steer through another difficult day. It was not the suspense alone. The strain of keeping the peace was growing too much for her. Oh, don't quarrel with her, Richard, for my sake! She begged her husband one night. She means so well, and she can't help being like she is. She's always been accustomed toward a Mr. Beemish about, but I wish she had never, never come, sobbed poor Polly, and Marnie, in a sudden flash of enlightenment, put his arms around her and made humble promises. Not another word should cross his lips. Though I'd like nothing so well as to throw her out, and her bags and bundles after her, come laugh a little, my Polly. Think of the old lady flying down the slope with her packages in a shower about her head. Roger's MD looked in whenever he passed. At this stage he was of the jocular persuasion. Still an unwelcome visitor, ma'am. No little tid-pid of news for me to-day. There he sat, twiddling his thumbs, reiterating his sing-song, just so, and looking wise as an owl. Marnie knew the air, had many a time seen it dawn to cloak perplexity, and covered ducts of Roger's ability began to assail him. But then he fell mentally foul of every one he came in touch with at present, Ned for the bare-faced fashion in which he left his cheerfulness on the dormat, Mrs. Beemish for the eternal poor lamb with which he bedplasted Polly, and the antiquated reckoning-table she embarrassed them by consulting. However, this state of things could not last forever, and at dawn one hot January day Polly was taken ill. The early hours promised well, but the morning war on turned to midday, then to afternoon, and matters still hung fire. While toward six o'clock the patient dismayed them by sitting up in bed, saying she felt much better and asking for a cup of tea. This drew, oh, my poor lamb, you've got to feel worse yet afore you're better, from Mrs. Beemish. It ended in Roger's taking up his quarters there for the night. At about eleven o'clock Marnie and he sat one on each side of the table in the little sitting-room. The heat was insupportable, and all three doors in the window were propped open in the feeble hope of creating a draught. The lamp had attracted a swarm of flying things, giant moths beat their wings against the globe, or felt singed and sizzling down the chimney, winged ants alighted with a click upon the table, blow flies and mosquitoes kept up a dizzy hum. From time to time Marnie rose and stole into the bedroom where Mrs. Beemish sat fanning the pests off Polly, who was in a feverish dose. Leaning over his wife he let his finger lie on her wrist, and back again in the outer-room he bit nervously at his little fingernail, and old trick of his when in a quandary. He had curtly refused a game of bzik, so Rogers had produced a pack of cards from his own pocket, soiled frayed cards which had likely done service on many a similar occasion, and was whiling the time away with solitaire. To sit there watching his slow manipulation of the cards his patent intentness on the game, to listen any longer to the accursed din of the gnats and flies, past Marnie's powers of endurance. Abruptly shoving back his chair he went out into the yard. This were some twenty paces across from the row of old kerosene tins that constituted his flower garden past ched and wood stack to the post and rail fence. How often he walked it he did not know, but when he went indoors again his boots were heavy with mud, for a brief summer storm had come up earlier in the evening. A dense black pool of cloud had swept like a heavy curtain over the stars to the tune of flash and bang. Now all was clear and calm again. The white star dust of the milky way powdered the sky just overhead, and though the heat was still intense the air had a fragrant smell of saturated dust and rain-soaked earth. He could hear streamlets of water trickling down the hillside to the river below. Up there in the dark several things became plain to him. He saw that he had not had any real confidence in Rogers from the start, while the effect of the evening spent at close quarters had been to sink his opinion to nothing. Rogers belonged to an old school. His method was to sit by and let nature take its course. Perhaps just this slowness to move had won him a name for extreme care. His old fogginess showed up unmistakably in a short but heated argument they had had on the subject of chloroform. He cited such hoary objections to the use of the new anaesthetic in maternity cases as Marnie had never expected to hear again, the therapeutic value of pain, the moral danger the patient ran in yielding up her will. What right have we to build a fellow creature sacrifice our consciousness, and the impious folly of interfering with the action of a creative law? It had only remained for him to quote Genesis and the talking serpent. Had the case been in his own hands he would have intervened before now. Rogers, on the contrary, was still satisfied with the shape of affairs or made pretence to be. For watching Link's side, Marnie fancied each time the fat man propelled his porch out of the sick-room, it was a shade less surely. There were nuances too in the way he pronounced his vapour, as long as our strength is well maintained, well maintained. Marnie doubted Polly's ability to bear much more, and he made bold to know his own wife's constitution best. Rogers was shilly-shallying. What if he delayed too long and Polly slipped through his hands? Lose Polly, good God! The very thought turned him cold, and alive to his fingertips with the superstition of his race he impetuously offered up his fondest dream to those invisible powers that sat aloft, waiting to be appeased. If this was to be the price exacted of him, the price of his escape from exile, then—then? To come back to the present, however, he was in an awkward position. He was going to be forced to take Polly's case out of the hands of the man to whom he'd entrusted it. Such a step ran counter to all the stiff rules of conduct, the punctilios of decorum laid down by the most code-ridden profession in the world. But a fresh visit to Polly, whose pulse had grown markedly softer, put an end to his scruples. Stalking into the sitting-room he said without preamble, In my opinion any further delay will mean a risk to my wife. I request you to operate immediately. Rogers blinked up from his card, surprised, ripped across his ruddy countenance. He pushed his spectacles to his forehead. Hey! What? Well, well, yes, the time is no doubt coming when we shall have to lend mother nature a hand. Coming? It's come and gone. Are you blind, man?" Rogers had faced many an agitated husband in his day. Now, now, Mr. Marnie, he said soothingly, and laid his last two cards in line. You must allow me to be the judge of that. Besides, he added, as he took off his glasses to polish them on a red bandana, Besides, I should have to ask you to go out and get someone to assist me. I shall assist you," returned Marnie. Rogers smiled, his broad, fat smile. Easier said than done, my good sir, easier said than done. Marnie considerably turned his back and kept it turned. Emptying a pitcher of water into a basin, he began to lather his hands. I am a qualified medical man, of the same university as yourself. I studied under Simpson. It cost him an effort to get the words out. But by speaking, he felt that he did ample penance for the fit of tetchy pride which, in the first instance, had tied his tongue. Rogers was dumbfounded. Well, upon my word, he ejaculated, letting his hands with glasses and handkerchief fall to the table. God bless my soul, why didn't you say so before? And why the deuce didn't you yourself attend? We can go into all that afterwards. That Rogers was not one of those who could deal rapidly with the unexpected. He continued to vent his surprise and to shoot distrustful glances at his companion. He was flurried, too, at being driven forward quicker than he had a mind to go, and said sulkily that Marnie must take full responsibility for what they were about to do. Marnie hardly heard him. He was looking at the instruments laid out on the table, his fingers itched to close around them. I'll prepare my wife, he said briskly, and going into the bedroom he bent over the pillow. It was damp with the sweat that had dripped from Polly's head when the pains were on her. Here you, girl, get in quick now with your bucket and cloth, and give that place a good clean up before the poor lamb opens her eyes again. I'm cooked, that's what I am." And sitting heavily down on the kitchen chair, Mrs. Beamish wiped her face towards the four points of the compass. Picked by an unholy curiosity young Ellen willingly obeyed, but a minute later she was back having done no more than set her pale down inside the bedroom door. Oh, sure, Mrs. Beamish, and I can't do it! She cried shrilly. It's just like Andy Sorks' shop when they've been quartering a sheep. Oh, quarter you, you lazy trollop you! cried Mrs. Beamish, rising to her aching legs again, and her day-old anxiety found vent in a hearty burst of temper. I'll teach you!" Pulling as she spoke the floorcloth out of the girl's hand. Such years and graces! Why, sooner or later, my lady, you've got to go through it yourself. Me, catch me, said Ellen, with enormous emphasis. Do you mean to say that's old? Oh, children are always calm. Of course it is, young mincing nanny-en, heavy-blessed child that walks, and I just hope, said Mrs. Beamish, as she marched off herself with brush and scrubber, I hope, now you know it, you'll have a little more love and gratitude for your own mother than ever you had before. Oh, Laura, said the girl! Oh, Laura! And plumping down on the chopping-block, she snatched her apron to her face and began to cry. CHAPTER VIII. Two months passed before Marnie could help Polly and Mrs. Beamish into the coach-bound for Geelong. It had been touch-and-go with Polly, and for weeks her condition had kept him anxious. With the onset of the second month, however, she seemed fairly to turn the corner, and from then on made a steady recovery, thanks to her youth and an unimpaired vitality. He had hurried the little cradle out of sight, but Polly was quick to miss it, and quite approved of it having been given to a needy expectant mother nearby. Altogether she bore the thwarting of her hopes bravely. Poor little baby, I should have been very fond of it! Was all she said when she was well enough to fold and peg away the tiny garments at which she had stitched with such pleasure. It was not to Marnie's mind that she returned with Mrs. Beamish, but what else could be done? After lying a prisoner through the hot summer, she was sadly in need of a change. And Mrs. Beamish promised her a diet of unlimited milk and eggs, as well as the do-nothing life that befitted an invalide. Just before they left, a letter arrived from John demanding the keys of his house, and proposing that Polly should come to town to set it in order for him and help him to engage a housekeeper. Annickedly a truly jonish fashion of giving an invitation thought Marnie, and was not for his wife accepting it. But Polly was so pleased at the prospect of seeing her brother that he ended by agreeing to her going on to Melbourne as soon as she had thoroughly recuperated. Peace between him and Mrs. Beamish was dearly bought up to the last. They barely avoided a final explosion. At the beginning of her third month's absence from home the good woman grew very restive and sighed aloud for the day on which she would be able to take her departure. "'I expect Marnie being a well-eyed, this will run clean into a fifty-pound note,' she said one evening, when it comes to managing an house those two girls of mine have an ounce of gumption between them. It was tactless of her, even Polly felt that, that she could sympathize with the worry that prompted the words. As for Marnie, had he had the money to do it, he would have flung the sum named straight at her head. She must never come again,' said Polly to herself as she bent over the hair-chain she was making as a gift for John. It is a pity, but it seems as if Richard can't get on with those sort of people. In his relief at having his house to himself, Marnie accepted even Polly's absence with composure. To be perpetually in the company of other people irked him beyond belief. A certain amount of privacy was as vital to him as sleep. Being in his newfound solitude he put off from day to day the disagreeable job of winding up his affairs and discovering how much, or how little, ready money there would be to set sail with. Another thing, some books he had sent home for a year or more ago, came to hand at this time and gave him a fresh pretext for delay. There were eight or nine volumes to unpack and cut the pages of. He ran from one to another, sipping, devouring. Finally he cast anchor in a collected edition of his old chief's writings on obstetrics, slipped in this as a gift from the sender, a college chum, and over it, his feet on the table, his dead pipe in the corner of his mouth, Marnie sat for the better part of the night. The effect of this mastermind on his was that of a spark on tinder. Under the flash he cursed for the hundredth time the folly he had been guilty of in throwing up medicine. It was a vacation that fitted him as coursing fits a hound or housewifery a woman. The only excuse he could find for his apostasy was that he had been caught in an epidemic of unrest which had swept through the country, upsetting the balance of men's reason. He had since wondered if the great exhibition of fifty-one had not had something to do with it by unduly wetting people's imaginations, so that but a single cry of gold was needed to loose the spirit of vagrancy that lurks in every Britain's blood. His case had perhaps been peculiar in this. No one had come forward to warn or dissuade. His next relatives, mother and sisters, were, he thought, glad to know him well away. In their eyes he had lowered himself by taking up medicine. To them it was still all of a peace with the barber's pole and cupping-basin. Before his time no member of the family had entered any profession but the army. O! that infernal Irish pride and Irish poverty! It had choked damped his youth, blighted the prospects of his sisters. He could remember, as if it were yesterday, the jibes and fliers called forth by the suit of a wealthy Dublin brewer, who had been attracted by sheer force of contrast, no doubt, to the elder of the two swan-necked, stiff-backed Miss Townsend Marnys, with their long, thin noses and the ingrained lines that ran from the curled nostrils to the corner of their supercilious mouths, describing a sneer so deep that at a distance it was possible to mistake it for a smile. Be'er, my dear, indeed, and there are worse things in the world than be'er," he heard his mother declare in her biting way, by all means take him, you can wash yourself in it if water gets scarce, and I'll place my kitchen orders with you. Lucinda, who had perhaps sniffed timidly at release, burnt crimson. Thank you, she'd rather eat rat-bane. He supposed they pinched and scraped along as of old. The question of money was never broached between him and them. Prior to his marriage he had sent them what he could, but that little was in itself an admission of failure. They made no inquiries about his mode of life, preferring it to remain in shadow, enough for them that he had not amassed a fortune. At that come to pass they might have pardoned the rude method of its making. In fancy he listened to the witty, cutting, self-derisive words in which they would have alluded to his success. Lying back in his chair he thought of them thus, without unkindliness, even with a dash of humour. That was possible, now that knocking about the world had rubbed off some of his own corners. In his young days he too had been hot and bitter. What, however, to another might have formed the chief crux in their conduct, it was by squandering such money as there was, his own portion among it, on his scamp of an elder brother, that they had forced him into the calling they despised. This had not troubled him greatly. For medicine was the profession on which his choice would anyhow have fallen. And to-night the book that lay before him had infected him with the old enthusiasm. He relived those days when a skillfully handled case of presenter-previa or a successful delivery in the fourth position had meant more to him than the charge of the light brigade. Fresh from this dip into the past, this foretaste of the future, he turned in good heart to business. An inventory had to be taken, damaged goods cleared out, a list of bad and less bad deaths drawn up. He and Hemple were hard at work all next day. The result was worse even than he had expected. His outlay that summer, ever since the day on which he had set off to the aid of his bereaved relative, had been enormous. Trade had run dry, and throughout Polly's long illness he had dipped blindly into his savings. He could never have said no to Mrs. Beamish when she came to him for money, rather would he have pawned a coat of his back, and she, good woman, was unused to cheese-pairing. His men's wages paid, births booked, the numerous expenses bound up with the departure to frayde, he would have but a scanty sum in hand with which to start on the other side. For himself he was not afraid, but he shrank from the thought of Polly undergoing privations. So far they had enjoyed a kind of frugal comfort, but should he meet with obstacles at the outset, if patients were laggedly in the practice slow to move, or if he himself fell ill they might have a spell of real poverty to face? And it was under the goad of this fear that he hid on a new scheme. Why not leave Polly behind for a time until he had succeeded in making a home for her? Why not leave her under the wing of Brother John? John stood urgently in need of a head for his establishment, and who so well suited for the post as Polly? Surely if it were put before him John must jump at the offer. Parting from Polly, and worried only for a little while, would be painful. But did he go alone he would be free to do his utmost and with an easy mind, knowing that she lacked none of the creature comforts. Yes, the more he considered the plan the better he liked it. The one flaw in his satisfaction was the thought that if their child had lived no such smooth and simple arrangement would have been possible, he could not have foisted a family on Ternum. Now he waited with impatience for Polly to return, his reasonable little Polly. But he didn't hurry her. Polly was enjoying her holiday, having passed to Melbourne from Geelong she wrote, John is so very kind he doesn't of course go out yet himself, but I was present with some friends of his at a very elegant soiree. John gave me a headdress composed of black pearls and frosted leaves. He means to go in for politics as soon as his year of mourning is up. Marnie replied, Enjoy yourself my heart and see all the sights you can. While into more than one of his letters he slipped a bank note, for you know I like you to pay your own way as far as possible. And at length the day came when he could lift his wife out of the coach. She emerged, powdered brown with dust and very tired, but radiantly happy. It was a great event in little Polly's life, this homecoming, and coming too strong and well. The house was a lively place that afternoon. Polly had so much to tell that she sat holding her bonnet for over an hour, quite unable to get as far as the bedroom, and even long Jim's mouth went up at the corners instead of down, for Polly had contrived to bring back a little gift for everyone. And in presenting these she found out more of what people were thinking and feeling than her husband had done in all the eight weeks of her absence. Marnie was loath to damp her pleasure straight away, he bided his time. He could not know that Polly also had been laying plans, and that she watched anxiously for the right moment to unfold them. The morning after her return she got a lift in the baker's cart and drove out to inspect John's children. What she saw and heard on this visit was disquieting. The children had run wild, were grown dirty, sly, untruthful, especially the boy. A young Satan, and that's a fact, Mrs. Marnie, what he needs is a man's hand over him and a good hide in six days out of seven. It was not alone little Johnny's misconduct, however, that made Polly break silence. An incident occurred that touched her still more nearly. And and wife sat snug and quiet as in the early days of their marriage. Autumn had come round and a fire burnt in the stove before which Pompey snorted in his dreams. But for all the cosy tranquillity Polly was not happy, and time and again she moistened and bit at the tip of her thread before pointing it through her needle. For the book opened before Richard, in which he was making notes as he read, was the Bible. Vending over him to drop a kiss on the top of his head, Polly had been staggered by what she saw. Opposite the third verse of the first chapter of Genesis, and God said, Let there be light and there was light, he had written, Three days before the sun. Her heart seemed to shrivel to grow small in her breast at the thought of her husband being guilty of such impurity. Ceasing her pretence at sowing, she walked out of the house into the yard. Standing there under the star she said aloud as if someone, thee one, could hear her. He doesn't mean to do wrong, I know he doesn't. But when she re-entered the room he was still at it. His beautiful writing, reduced to its tiniest, wound round the narrow margins. Deeply read Polly took her courage in both hands and struck a blow for the soul whose salvation was more to her than her own. Richard, do you think that—that—that he's right? She asked in a low voice. Arnie raised his head. Eh? What? Polygon? Do you think you ought—that it is right to do what you're doing? The smile, half tender, half quizzical that she loved broke over her husband's face. He held out his hand. His my little wife troubled. Richard, I only mean—Polly, my dear, don't worry your little head over what you don't understand and have confidence in me. You know I wouldn't do anything I believe to be wrong. Yes, indeed, and you're really far more religious than I am. One can be religious and yet not shut one's eyes to the truth. It's St. Paul, you know, who says we can do nothing against the truth, but for the truth. And you may depend on it, Polly. The old wise would never have given us the brains he has if he had not intended us to use them. Now, I have long felt sure that the Bible is not wholly what it claims to be direct inspiration. Oh, Richard, said Polly, and threw an anxious glance over her shoulder, if any one should hear you. We can't afford to let our lives be governed by what other people think, Polly, nor will I give any man the right to decide for me what my share of the truth shall be. On seeing the Bible closed Polly breathed again at the same time promising herself to take the traitorous volume into safekeeping that no third person's eye should rest on it. Perhaps, too, if it were put away, Richard would forget to go on writing in it. He'd probably begun in the first place only because he had nothing else to do. In the store he sat and smoked and twirled his thumbs, not half a dozen customers came in in the course of a day. If he were once properly occupied again with work that he liked, he would not be tempted to put his gifts to such a profane use. Thus she primed herself for speaking, for now was the time. Richard was declaring that trade had gone to the dogs, his takings dropped to a quarter of what they had formerly been. This headed just where she wished, but Polly would not have been Polly had she not glanced aside for a moment to cheer and console. It's the same everywhere, Richard, everybody's complaining, and that reminds me I forgot to tell you about the beamishes, they're in great trouble. You see a bog has formed in front of the hotel, and the traffic goes around another way, so they've lost most of their custom. Mr. Beamish never opens his mouth at all now, and mother is fearfully worried. That's what the matter was when she was here, only she was too kind to say so. Hard lines. Indeed it is. But about us. I'm not surprised to hear trade is dull. Since I was over in the western township last, no less than six new general stores have gone up, I scarcely knew the place. They've all got big plate-glass windows and were crowded with people. Yes, there's a regular exodus up west, but that doesn't alter the fact-wife that I've made a very poor job of store-keeping. I shall leave here with hardly a penny to my name. Yes, but then, Richard, said Polly, and bent over her strip of needle-work, you were never cut out to be a store-keeper, were you? I was not, and I verily believe if it hadn't been for that old so-besides of a hemple I should have come a crop a long ago. Yes, and hemple, said Polly, softly. Hemple's been wanting to leave for ever so long. The dickens he has, cried Marnie in astonishment, and me humming and hoeing about giving him notice. What's the matter with him? What's he had to complain of? Oh, nothing like that. He wants to enter the ministry, a help as needed at the Baptist chapel, and he means to apply for the post. You see, he's saved a good deal, and thinks he can study to be a minister at the same time. Only for his grave the fool. So that's it, is it? Well, well, it saves trouble in the end. I don't need to bother my head now over what's to become of him, him or any one else. My chief desire is to say good-bye to this whole for ever. There's no sense, Polly, in my dawdling on, indeed I haven't the money to do it. So I've arranged, my dear, with our friend Ock Ock to come in and sell us off as soon as you can get our personal belongings put together. Here Polly raised her head as if to interrupt, but Marnie, full of what he had to say, ignored the movement and went on speaking. He did not wish to cause his wife uneasiness by dwelling on his difficulties, but some explanation was necessary to pave the way for his proposal that she should remain behind when he left the colony. He spent all his eloquence in making this sound natural and attractive, but it was hard when Polly's big astonished eyes hung on his face. Do you think, for my sake, you could be brave enough?" He wound up rather unsurely. It wouldn't be for long, love, I'm certain of that. Just let me set foot in England once more. Why, why, yes, dear Richard, I think I could, if you really wished it," said Polly, in a small voice. She tried to seem reasonable, though Black Knight descended on her at the thought of parting, and though her woman's eyes saw a hundred objections to the plan which his had overlooked. For one thing John had just installed Sara as housekeeper, and Sara would take it very unkindly to be shown the door. I think I could, she repeated, but before you go on, dear, I should like to ask you something." She laid down her needlework, her heart was going pit-a-pat. Richard, did you ever—I mean, have you ever thought of taking up your profession again? I mean here, starting practice here—no, no, wait a minute, let me finish. I—oh, Richard! I was able to find words Polly locked her fingers under the table-cloth, and hoped she was not going to be so silly as to cry. Getting up she knelt down before her husband, laying her hands on his knees. Oh, Richard, I wish you would, how I wish you would! Why, Polly, said Marnie, surprised at her agitation. Why, my dear, what's all this? You want to know if I never thought of setting up in practice out here? Of course I did, in the beginning. You don't think I'd have chosen to keep a store if there'd been any other opening for me. But there wasn't, child. The place was overrun. Never a medico came out and found digging too much for him, but he fell back in despair on his profession. I didn't see my way to join their starvation band. Yes, then, Richard, but now, broken Polly, now it's quite, quite different. Look at the size Ballarat has grown, there are more than forty thousand people settled on it, Mr. Ock Ock told me so. And you know, dear, doctors have cleared out lately, not come fresh. There was that one, I forget his name, who drank himself to death, and the two you remember, who were sold up just before Christmas. But this was an unfortunate line of argument to have hit on, and Polly blushed and stumbled. Marnie laughed at her slip and smoothed her hair. Typical fates love. They mustn't be mine. Besides Polly, you're forgetting the main thing, how I hate the place and how I've always longed to get away. No, I'm not, but please let me go on. You know Richard, every one believes some day Ballarat will be the chief city, bigger even than Geelong or Melbourne. And then, to have a good practice here would mean ever such a lot of money. I'm not the only person who thinks so. There's Sarah and Mrs. Beamish, I know of course you don't care much what they say, but still—Polly meant still, you see I have public opinion on my side. Yes, however, once more words failed her she hastened to add. John, too, is amazed to hear you think of going home to bury yourself in some little English village, he's sure there'd be a splendid opening for you here. John thinks very, very highly of you, he told me he believed you would have saved Emma's life if you'd been there. I much obliged your brother for his confidence, said Marnie dryly, but—wait a minute, Richard, you see, dear, I can't help feeling myself that you ought not to be too hasty in deciding. Of course I know I'm young and I haven't had much experience, but you see you're known here, Richard, and that's always something. In England you'd be a perfect stranger, and though you may say there are too many doctors on the flat, still if the place goes on growing as it's doing there'll soon be room for more, and then if it isn't you it'll just be someone else. And that does seem a pity when you're so clever, so much, much cleverer than other people. Yes, I know all about it, Mrs. Beamish told me it was you I owed my life to, not Dr. Rogers, at which Marnie winced, indignant that any one should have betrayed to Polly how near death she had been. Oh, I do want people to know you for what you really are, said little Polly. Pussy, I believe she has ambitions for her husband, said Marnie to Palmerston. Of course I have. You say you hate Ballarat and all that, but have you ever thought, Richard, what a difference it would make if you were in a better position. You think people look down on you because you're in trade, but if you were a doctor, there'd be none of that. You'd call yourself by your full name again, and write it down on the visiting list at Government House, and be as good as anybody, and be asked into society, and keep a horse. You'd live in a bigger house, and have a room to yourself, and time to read and write. I'm quite sure you'd make lots of money and soon be at the top of the tree. And after all, dear Richard, I don't want to go home. I would much rather stay here and look after Jerry and dear Ned and poor John's children, said Polly, falling back as a forlorn hope on her own preference. Why, what a piece of special pleading! cried Marnie, and leaning forward he kissed the young flushed face. Don't laugh at me, I'm in earnest. Why, no child, but Polly, my dear, even if I were tempted for a moment to think seriously of what you say, where would the money come from? Fees are high, it's true if the balls once set are rolling, but till then, with the duel of a wife like mine, I'd be a scoundrel to take risks. Polly had been waiting for this question. On hearing it she sat back on her heels and drew a deep breath. The communication she had now to make him was the hub around which all turned. Should he refuse to consider it? Plucking at the fringe of the tablecloth she brought out piecemeal, the news that John was willing to go surety for the money they would need to borrow for the start. Not only that, he offered them a handsome sum weekly to take entire charge of his children. Not here in this little house, I know that wouldn't do, Polly hastened to throw in, for stalling the objection she read in Richard's eyes. Now, did he not think he should weigh an offer of this kind very carefully? A name like John's was not to be despised, most people in their position would jump at it. I understand something about it, said the little woman and sagesly nodded her head, for when I was in Geelong Mr Beemish tried his hardest to raise some money, and couldn't, his sureties weren't good enough. Barney had not the heart to chide her for discussing his private affairs with her brother. Indeed he rather admired the businesslike way she'd gone about it, and he admitted this by ceasing to banter and by calling her attention to the various hazards and inconveniences the step would entail. Polly heard him out in silence. Half for her in the beginning that he did not decline off hand. They had a long talk, the end of which was that he promised to sleep over John's proposal and delay fixing the date of the auction till the morning. Having yielded this point, Barney kissed his wife and sent her to bed, himself going out with the dog for his usual stroll. It was a fine night, moonless but thick with stars. So much, at least, could be said in favour of the place. There was abundant sky-room, you've got a clear half of the great fault at once. How he pitied on such a night the dwellers in old congested cities, whose view of the starry field was limited to a narrow strip cut through house-tops. Yet he walked with a springless tread. The fact was, certain of his wife's words had struck home, and in the course of the past year he had learnt to put considerable faith in Polly's practical judgment. As he wound his way up the little hill to which he had often carried his perplexities, he let his pipe go out and forgot to whistle Pompey off Butcher's garbage. Sitting down on a log he rested his chin in his hands. Below him twinkled the sparse lights of the flat, shouts and singing rows from the circus. And so John would have been willing to go surety for him. Let no one say the unexpected did not happen. All said and done they were little more than strangers to each other, and John had no notion what his moneymaking capacities as a doctor might be. It was true Polly had been too delicate to mention whether the affair had come about through her persuasions or on John's own initiative. John might have some ulterior motive up his sleeve. Perhaps he did not want to lose his sister, or was scheming to bind a pair of desirable's fast to this colony, the welfare of which he had so much at heart. Again it might be that he wished to buy off the memory of that day on which he had stripped his soul naked. Simplest of all, why should he not be merely trying to pay back a debt? He, Marnie, might shrink from lying under an obligation to John, but so far the latter had not scrupled to accept favors from him. But that was always the way with your rich men they were not troubled by paltry pride, for they knew it was possible to acquit themselves of their debts at a moment's notice and with interest. This led him to reflect on the great help to him the loan of his wealthy relative's name would be. Difficulties would melt before it, and surely no undue risk was involved in the use of it. Without boasting he thought he was better equipped both by aptitude and training than the ruck of colonial practitioners. Did he enter the lists he could hardly fail to succeed? And out here even a moderate success spelled a fortune. Gained double quick, too, after which the lucky individual sold out and went home to live in comfort. Yes, that was a point and not to be overlooked. No definite surrender of one's hopes was called for only a postponement. Ten years might do it, meaty years, of course, the best years of one's life, still. It would mean very hard work, but had he not just been contemplating with perfect equanimity and even more arduous venture on the other side, what a capricious piece of mechanism was the human brain. Another thought that occurred to him was that his services might prove more useful to this new country than to the old where able men abounded. He recalled many good lives and promising cases he had here seen lost and bungled. To take the instance nearest home, Polly's confinement. Yes, to show his metal to such as Roger's, to earn respect where he had lived as a mere null, the idea had an insidious fascination. And as Polly sagesly remarked, if it were not he it would be someone else, another would harvest the kudos that might have been his. For the rough and ready treatment the blue pills and the black drafts that had satisfied the early diggers had fallen into disrepute. Medical skill was beginning to be appreciated. If this went on Ballarat would soon stand on a level with any city of its size at home. But even as it was he had never been quite fair to it. He had seen it with a jaundice dye. And again he believed Polly hit the nail on the head when she asserted that the poor position he had occupied was responsible for much of his dislike. But there was something else at work in him besides. Below the surface an admission awaited him which he shrank from making. All these pros and cons, these quibbles and hair-splittings, were but a misfit attempt to cloak the truth. He might gull himself with them for a time. In his heart he knew that he would yield, if yield he did, because he was by nature only too prone to follow the line of least resistance. What he had gone through to-night was no new experience. Often enough, after fretting and fuming about a thing till it seemed as if nothing under the sun had ever mattered so much to him, it could happen that he suddenly threw up the sponge and bowed to circumstance. His vitality exhausted itself beforehand in a passionate aversion, a torrent of words, and failed him at the critical moment. It was a weakness in his blood, in the blood of his race. But in the present instance he had an excuse for himself. He hadn't known, till Polly came out with her brother's offer, how he dreaded having to begin all over again in England an utter stranger without influence or recommendations and with no money to speak of at his back. But now he owned up, and there was no more need of shift or sub-diffuge. Now it was one Russian hurry till the end. He had capitulated, a thin-skinned aversion to confronting difficulties when he saw the chance of avoiding them had won the day. He intended, had perhaps the whole time intended, to take the hand held out to him. After all, why not? Anyone else, as Polly said, would have jumped at John's offer. He alone must argue himself blew in the face over it. But as he sat and pondered the lengthy chain of circumstance, Polly's share in it, John's, his own, even the part played by incorporeal things, he brought up short against the word decision. He might flatter himself by imagining he had been feeded aside. In reality nothing was further from the truth. He had been subtly and slyly guided to his goal, and had blindfolded along a road that was not of his choosing. Everything and every one had combined to constrain him, his favours to John, the failure of his business, Polly's inclinations and persuasions, his own fastidious shrinkings, so that in the end all he had had to do was to brush aside a flimsy gossamer veil which hung between him and his fate. Was it straining a point to see in the whole affair the workings of a power outside himself, against himself insofar as it took no count of his poor earth-blind vision? Well, if this was so, better still, his ways were in God's hand, and after all what did it matter where one strove to serve one's maker, east or west or north or south, and whether the stars overhead were grouped in this constellation or in that? Their light was a pledge that one would never be overlooked or forgotten, traced by the hand of him who had promised to note even a sparrow's fall. And here he spoke aloud into the darkness the ancient and homely formula that his man stand by in face of the untried, the unknown. If God wills, God knows best. CHAPTER VIII. The house stood not far from the Great Swamp. It was a weather-board with a galvanised iron roof, and might have been built from a child's drawing of a house, a door in the centre, a little window on either side, a chimney at each end. Once the ground sloped downwards the front part rested on pile some three feet high, and from the rutty clay track that would one day be a street, wooden steps led up to the door. Much as Marnie would have liked to face it with a veranda, he did not feel justified in spending more than he could help. And Polly not only agreed with him, but contrived to find an advantage in the plainer style of architecture. Your plate will be better seen, Richard, right on the street, than hidden under a veranda. But then Polly was overflowing with content, had not two of the room's fireplaces, and was then not a wash-house with a real copper in it behind the detached kitchen, not to speak of a spare-room. To the rear of the house a high-pailing fence enclosed a good-sized yard, Marnie dreamed of a garden, Polly of keeping hens. There were no two happier people on Ballarat that autumn than the Marnies. Two and fro they trudged down the hill across the flat over the bridge and up the other side, first through a Sahara of dust, and then when the rains began ankle-deep in glowy red mud. And the building of the finest mansion never gave half so much satisfaction as did that of this flimsy little wooden house with its thin lathen plaster walls. In fancy they had furnished it and lived in it long before it was even roofed in. Marnie sat at work in his surgery, it measured ten by twelve, Polly a turbulent wool-work in the parlour opposite, and a cage with a little parrot in it hanging at the window. The preliminaries to the change had gone smoothly enough, Marnie could not complain. Pleasant they had not been, but could the arranging and clinching of a complicated money matter ever be pleasant. He had had to submit to hearing his private affairs gone into by a stranger to make clear to strangers his capacity for earning a decent income. With John's promissory letter in his pocket he had betaken himself to Henry Ockock's office. This notwithstanding its excellent position on the brow of the western hill could not deny its humble origin as a livery barn. The entry was by a yard, and some of the former horse-boxers had been rudely knocked together to provide accommodation, Marnie sniffed stale dung, in what had once been the harness-room to young men sat at work. Why, Tom, my lad, you hear! Tom Ockock raised his freckled face from the chin of which sprouted some long fair hairs and turned red. Yes, it's me. Do you want to see an—at an open kick from his brother—Mr. Ockock? If you please. Informed by Grindel that the captain was at liberty, Marnie passed when in a room where he was waved to a chair. In answer to his statement that he had called to see about raising some money, Ockock returned an—indeed!—money is tights. Sir, very tight! His face instantly taking on the blank wall's solemnity proper to dealings with this world's main asset. Marnie did not at once hand over John's way soothing letter. He thought he would first test the lawyer's attitude towards him in person, a species of self-torment men of his maker rarely able to withstand. He spoke of the decline of his business, of his idea of setting up as a doctor and building himself a house, and as he talked he read his answer pattern clear in the ferrity eyes before him. There was a broad tolerance of his wordiness, and utter lack of interest in the concerns of the petty tradesmen. Hmm! Ockock, lying back in his chair, was fitting five outstretched fingers to their fellows. All very well, my good sir, but may I ask if you have any one in view as a security? I have. May I trouble you to glance through this, and triumphantly Marnie brandished John's letter? Ockock raised his brows. What! Mr. John Turnham! Ah! Very good, very good indeed. The brazen face change in his manner would have made a cat laugh. He sat upright, was interested, courteous, alert. Quite in order. And now pray, how much do we need? Unadvised he had not been able, said Marnie, to determine the sum. So Ockock took pencil and paper, and prior to running off a reckoning put him through a sharp interrogation. After it Marnie felt as though his clothing was being stripped piece by piece of his back. At one moment he stood revealed as mean and stingy, at another as an impractical spin-thrift. More serious things came out besides. He began to see, under the limelight of the lawyer's inquiry, in what a muddle-headed fashion he had managed his business, and how unlikely it was he could ever have made a good thing of it. Still worse was his thoughtless folly in wedding and bringing home a young wife, without in this settlement where accident was rife, where fires were of nightly occurrence, ensuring against either fire or death. Not that Ockock breathed the hint of censure, or was done with a twist of the eye, a purse of the lip. But it was enough for Marnie. He sat there feeling like an eel in the skinning, and did not attempt to keep pace with the lawyer, who hunted figures into the centre of a woolly maze. The upshot of these calculations was he would need help to the tune of something over one thousand pounds. As Mattis stood at present on Ballarat said Ockock, the planest house he could build would cost him eight hundred, and another couple of hundred would go in furnishing, while a saddle-horse might be put down at fifty pounds. On Ternum's letter he, Ockock, would be prepared to borrow seven hundred for him, and this could probably be obtained at ten percent on a mortgage of the house, and a further four hundred, for which he would have to pay twelve or fifteen. And expenses must be covered by the residue of this savings and by what he was able to make. They would include the keep of the horse, and the interest on the borrowed money, which might be reckoned roughly at a hundred and twenty per annum. In addition he would be well advised to ensure his life for five to seven hundred pounds. The question also came up whether the land he had selected for building on should be purchased or not. He was for doing so, for settling the whole business there and then. Ockock, however, took the opposite view. Considering, said he, that the site chosen was far from the centre of the town, Marnie might safely postpone buying in the meanwhile. There had been no government land sales of late, and all main road frontages had still to come under the hammer. As occupier, when the time arrived, he would have first chance at the upset price. Though then it was true he would also be liable for improvements. The one thing he must be aware of was in closing too small a block. Marnie agreed, agreed to everything. The affairs seemed to have passed out of his hands. A sense of dismay invaded him while he listened to the lawyer tick off the obligations and responsibilities he was letting himself in for—a thousand pounds! He to run into debt for such a sum who had never owed a farthing to any one. He felt a doubting whether, after all, he had made choice of the easier way and lapsed into a gloomy silence. A cock on the other hand warmed to geniality. May I say, Doctor, how wise I think your decision to come over to us? He spoke as if Balor at East were in the heart of the Russian steppes. And that reminds me, as a friend of mine, I may be able at once to put a patient in your way. Marnie walked home in a mood of depression, which he took all Polly's arts to dispel. After its influence he wrote an outspoken letter to Purdy, but with no very satisfactory result. It was like projecting a feeler for sympathy into the void, so long was it since they had met, and so widely had his friend's life branched from his. Purdy's answer, it was headed the ovens, did not arrive until several weeks later, and was mainly about himself. In a way, I'm with you all pill-box, he wrote, you'll cut a dolly-side better figure as an M.D. than ever you've done behind a counter, but I don't know that I'd care to stake my last dollar on you all the same. What does Mrs. Polly say? As for me, old boy, since you're good enough to ask, why the less said the better, one of these days a poor worn old schicer will come crawling around to your back door to see if any cast-off dutch you can spare him. Seriously, Dick, old man, I'm stony broke once more, and the Lord only knows how I'm going to win through. In the course of that winter custom died a natural death, and one day the few odd mints that remained having been sold by auction, Marnie and his assistant nailed boards horizontally across the entrance to the store. The day of weighing out pepper and salt was over, never again with the tinny jangle of the accursed bells smite his ears. The next thing was that Hempel packed his chattels and departed for his new walk in life. Marnie was not sorry to see him go. Hempel's thoughts had soared far above the counter. He was arrived at the stage of, I'm just as good as you, which everyone here reached sooner or later. I shall always be pleased to hear how you're getting on. Marnie spoke kindly, but in a tone which, as Polly who stood by very well knew, people were apt to misunderstand. I should think so, she chimed in. I shall feel very hurt indeed, Hempel, if you don't come and see us. With regard to Long Jim, she had a talk with her husband one night as they went to bed. There really won't be anything for him to do in the new house, no heavy crates or barrels to move about, and he doesn't know a thing about horses. Why not let him go home, he does so want to. What would you say, dear, to giving him thirty pounds for his passage money and a trifle in his pocket? It would make him very happy, and he'd be off your hands for good. Of course, though, just as you think best. We shall need every penny we can scrape together for ourselves, Polly. And yet, my dear, I believe you're right. In the new house, as you say, he'll be a mere incumbrance. As for me, I'd be only too thankful never to hear his cantankerous old pipe again. I don't know now what evil genius prompted me to take him in. Evil genius, indeed, retorted Polly. You did it because you're a dear, good, kind-hearted man. Think so, wifey. I'm inclined to put it down to a sheer dislike of botheration, Irish inertia, the curse of our race. Yes, yes, I knew you'd be wanting to get rid of me now you're going up in the world, was Long Jim's answer when Polly broached her scheme for his benefit. Well, no, I won't sigh anything against you, Mrs. Marnie, you've treated me square enough. But, Doc, he's always thought himself a sight above one, and when he does he lets you feel it. This was more than Polly could brook. And sighing and groaning as you have done to get home, Jim, you're a silly ungrateful old man, even to hint at such a thing. Poor old fellow, he's grumbled so long now that he's forgotten how to do anything else. She afterwards made allowance for him, and added, pierced by a sudden dart, I hope his wife will still be used to it, or else. And now the last day in the old house was come. The furniture stacked in the yard awaited the tray that was to transport it. Polly worth carrying with one thought, Marnie, when he saw the few poor sticks exposed to the searching sunlight. Pipe in mouth he mooned about, feeling chiefly amazed that he could have put up for so long with the miserable little hut which his house stripped of its trimmings proved to be. His reflections were cut short by old Ockock, who leaned over the fence to bid his neighbours good-bye. No disturbance, come in, come in! cried Marnie, with the rather spurious heartiness one is prone to throw into a final invitation. And Polly rose from her knees before a clothes-basket which he was filling with crockery, and bustled away to fetch the cake she had baked for such an occasion. "'I'll miss your bright little face, that I will,' said Mr. Ockock, as he munched with the relish of a jerry or a ned. He held his slice of cake in the hollow of one great palm, conveying with extreme care the pieces he broke off to his mouth. You must come and see us as soon as ever we're settled. Bless you, you'll soon find grander friends and an old chap like me. Mr. Ockock, are you with three sons in the law? Besides, mark my words, it'll be your turn next to build. Marnie removed his pipe to throw in. We'll have you over with us yet." And what a lovely surprise for Miss Amelia when she arrives to find a brand new house awaiting her! "'Well, that's the end of this little roof-tree,' said Marnie. The loaded ray had driven off, the children and Ellen perched on top of the furniture, and he was giving a last look around. We've spent some very happy days under it, eh, my dear?' "'Oh, very,' said Polly, shaking out her skirts, but we shall be just as happy in the new one. God grant we may. It's not too much to hope I've now seen all the downs of my life. I've managed to pack a good many into thirty short years. And that reminds me, Mrs. Townsend Marnie, do you know you will have been married to me two whole years come next Friday?" "'Why, so we shall,' cried Polly, and was transfixed in the act of tying her bonnet-strings. How time does fly! It seems only the other day I saw this room for the first time. I peeped in, you know, while you were fetching the box. Do you remember how I cried, Richard? I was afraid of a spider or something.' And the Polly of eighteen looked back with a motherly amusement at her sixteen-year-old eye-dolan. "'But now, dear, if you're ready, or else the furniture will get there before we do. We'd better take the shortcut across Soldiers Hill. That's the cat in that basket for you to carry, and here's your microscope. I've got the decanter and the best teapot. Shall we go?' CHAPTER II And now, for a month or more, Marnie had been in possession of a room that was all his own. Did he retire into it, and shut the door, he could make sure of not being disturbed. Polly herself tapped before entering, and he let her do so. Polly was dear, but dearest still was his long-coveted privacy. He knew, too, that she was happily employed. The fitting-up and furnishing of the house was a job after her own heart. She had proved both skillful and economical at it, and thanks to her they had used a bare three-quarters of the summer lotted by Ock Ock for the purpose, and this was well for any number of unforeseen expenses had cropped up at the last moment. Polly had a real knack for making things do. Old empty boxes, for instance, underwent marvellous transformations at her hands, emerged clad in chints and muslin as sofas and toilet-tables. She hung her curtains on strings, and herself sewed the seams of the parlour carpet, squatting turk-fashion on the floor and working away with a great needle-shaped black assimitar until the perspiration ran down her face. It was also she, who, standing on the kitchen table, put up the only two pictures they possessed, led in Jerry giving opinions on the straightness of her eye from below. A fancy picture of the Battle of Waterloo in the parlour, a print of Harvey discovering the circulation of the blood on the surgery wall. From where he sat Marnie could hear the voices of the children, John's children, at play. They frolicked with Pompey in the yard. He could endure them, now that he was not forever tumbling over them. Yes, one and all were comfortably established under the new roof, with the exception of poor Palmerston the cat. Palmerston had declined to recognize the change, and with the immoderate homing instinct of his kind had returned night after night to his old haunts. For some time Marnie's regular evening walk was back to the store, a road he would otherwise not have taken, for it was odious to him to see Polly's neat little appointments going to rack and ruin under the tenancy of a dirty Irish family. There he would find the animals sitting in melancholy retrospect. Then and again he picked him up and carried him home until that night when no puss came to his core, and Palmerston the black and glossy was seen no more. Either he had fallen down a shaft or been mangled by a dog or stolen, cat still fetching a high price on Ballarat. The window of Marnie's room faced a wide view, not a fence hardly a bit of scrub or a tuft of grass tree marked the bare expanse of uneven ground, now baked brown as a pie crust by the December sun. He looked across it to the cemetery. This was still wild and unfenced, just a patch of rising ground where it was permissible to bury the dead. Only the day before the second anniversary of the Eureka Stockade he had watched some two to three hundred men with crepe on their hats and sleeves, a black drape pole at their head, marched there to do homage to their fallen comrades. The dust raised by the shuffling of these many feet had accompanied the procession like a moving cloud had lingered in its rear like the smoke from a fire. Drays and lorries crawled for ever laboriously along it, seeming glued to the earth by the monstrous sticky heat of the veiled sun. Further back rose a number of bald hills, rounded, swelling hills shaped like a woman's breasts, and behind all pale china blue against the tense white sky was the embankment of the distant rangers, except for these an ugly, uninviting outlook and wonder to which he seldom lifted his eyes. His room pleased him better. Polly had stretched a bright green drugard on the floor. The table had a green cloth on it. The picture showed up well against the whitewashed wall. Behind him was a large deal cupboard which held instruments and drugs. The book-shelves, with their precious burden, were within reach of his hand. On the top shelf he had stacked the boxes containing his botanical and other specimens. The first week or so there was naturally little doing, a sprained wrist to bandage, a tooth to draw, or a case of fly-blight. To keep himself from growing fidgety he overhauled his minerals and butterflies, and renewed faded labels. This done he went on to jot down some ideas he had with regard to the presence of oriferous veins in quartz. It was now generally agreed that quartz was the matrix, but on the question of how the gold had found its way into the rock opinions were sharply divided. The theory of igneous injection was advanced by some, others inclined to that of sublimation. Marnie leaned to a combination of the two processes and spent several days getting his thoughts in order, while Polly, bursting with pride, went about on tiptoe audibly hushing the children their uncle was writing for the newspapers. Still no patience worth the name made their appearance. To fend off the black worry that might get the better of him did he sit idle, he next drew his Bible to him and set about doing methodically what he had so far undertaken merely by fits and starts deciding for himself to what degree the scriptures were inspired. Polly was neither proud nor happy while this went on and let the children romp unchecked. At present it was not so much the welfare of her husband's soul she feared for. God must surely know by this time what a good man Richard was. He had not his equal, she thought, for honesty and uprightness. He was kind to the poor and the sick and hadn't missed a single Sunday at church since their marriage. But all that would not help if once he got the reputation of being an infidel then nobody would want him as a doctor at all. Casually begun Marnie's studies soon absorbed him to the exclusion of everything else. Brought up in the cast iron mould of Irish Protestantism to which being of a sober and devout turn of mind he had readily submitted he had been tossed as a youthful student into the free-booting Edinburgh of the forties. Edinburgh was alive in those days to her very paving stones. Town and university combined to form a hotbed of intellectual unrest, a breeding ground for disturbing possibilities. The development theory was in the air and a book that appeared anonymously had boldly voiced in popular fashion Mayier's Dream and the Lamarckian Hypothesis of a creation undertaken once and for all in place of a continuous creative intervention. This book, Opposing Natural Law to Miracle, carried complete conviction to the young and eager. Audacious spirits even hazarded the conjecture that primitive life itself might have originated in a natural way. Had not but recently an investigator who brought a powerful voltaic battery to bear on a saturated solution of silicate of potash, been startled to find as the result of his experiment numberless small mites of the species Akaris horridus, might not the marvell electricity or galvanism in action on albumen turn out to be the vitalising force. To the orthodox zoologist, phytologist and geologist, such a suggestion savoured of madness they either took refuge in a contemptuous silence or condescended only to reply. Had one visited the Garden of Eden during creation one would have found that in the morning man was not while in the evening he was, morning and evening bearing their newly established significance of geological epochs. The famous tracing of the creator's footsteps undertaken by a gifted compromiser was felt by even the most bigoted to be a lame rejoinder. His astrolepsis, the giant fossil fish from the old red sandstone, the antiquity of which should show that the origin of life was not to be found solely in infusorial points but that highly developed forms were among the earliest created. This single prop was admittedly not strong enough to carry the whole burden of proof. No, the immutability of species had been seriously impugned and bold minds asked themselves why a single act of creation at the outset should not constitute as divine an origin of life as a continued series of creative feats. Marni was one of them. The development theory did not repel him. He could see no impurity in believing that life once established on the earth had been left to perfect itself, or hold that this would represent the divine author of all things as, after one master stroke, dreaming away eternal ages in apathy and indifference. Why should the perfect functioning of natural law not be as convincing an expression of God's presence as a series of cataclysmic acts of creation? Nonetheless it was a time of crisis for him as for so many. For if this were so, if science spoke true that the miracle of life set a going there had been no further intervention on the part of the creator, then the very head and cornerstone of the Christian faith, the Bible itself, was shaken. More, much more, would have to go than just the mosaic cosmogony of the first chapter of Genesis. Just as the Elohistic account of creation had been stretched to fit the changed views of geologists, so the greater part of the scriptural narrative stood in need of a wider interpretation. The fable of the Eternal's personal mediation in the affairs of man must be accepted for what it was, a beautiful allegory, the fondly dreamed fulfilment of a world-old desire, and bringing thus a sharp and critical sense to bear on the scriptures Marnium parked on his voyage of discovery. Before him, but more is a warning than a beacon, shone the example of a famous German savant who, taking our Saviour's life as his theme, demolished the sacred idea of a divine miracle and retold the gospel story from a rationalistic standpoint. A savagely unimaginative piece of work this, thought Marnie, and one that laid all too little weight on the deeps of poetry, the mysteries of symbols, and the power the human mind drew from these to pierce to an ideal truth. His own modest efforts would be of quite another kind. For he sought not to deny God, but to discover him new, by freeing him from the drift of error, superstition and dead letterism which the centuries had accumulated about him. Far was it from his servant's mind to wish to decry the authority of the book of books. This he believed to consist in great part of inspired utterances, and for the rest to be the wisest and ripest collection of moral precept and example that had come down to us from the ages. Without it one would be rudderless indeed, a cast away in a cockle-shell boat on a furious sea, and from one's lips would go up a cry like to that rung from a famous infidel. I am affrighted and confounded with the forlorn solitude in which I am placed by my philosophy, begin to fancy myself in the most deplorable condition imaginable, environed by the deepest darkness. No Marnie was not one of those who held at the Christian faith that fine flower of man's spiritual need would suffer detriment by the discarding of a few fabulous tales, nor did he fear lest his own faith should become undermined by his studies. For he had that in him which told him that God was, and this instinctive certainty would persist, he believed, though he had ultimately to admit the whole fabric of Christianity to be based on the Arimatheon's dream. It had already survived the rejection of externals. The surrender of forms, the assurance that ceremonials were not essential to salvation, belonged to his early student days. Now he determined to send by the board the last hampering relics of bigotry and ritual. He could no longer concede the tenets of election and damnation. God was a God of mercy, not the blind jealous Yahweh of the Jews, or the inhuman sabbaterian of a narrow Protestantism. And he might be worshipped anywhere or anyhow, in any temple built to his name, in the wilderness under the open sky, in silent prayer, or according to any creed. In all this critical readjustment the thought he had to spare for his fellow men was of small account. His fate was not bound to theirs by the altruism of a later generation. It was a time of intense individualism, and his efforts toward spiritual emancipation were made on his own behalf alone. The one link he had with his fellows, if link it could be termed, was his earnest wish to avoid giving offense. Never would it have occurred to him to noise his heterodoxy abroad, nor did he want to disturb other people's convictions. He respected those who could still draw support from the old faith, and moreover had not a particle of the proselytiser in him. He held that religion was either a matter of temperament or of geographical distribution, felt tolerantly inclined toward the Jews and the Chinese, and did not even smile at precessions to the Joss House and the provisioning of those silent ones who needed food no more. But just as little as he intermedalled with the convictions of others would he brook interference with his own. It was the concern of no third person what paths he followed in his journeyings after the truth, in his quest for panacea for the ills and delusions of life. For call it what he would, biblical criticism, scientific inquiry, this was his aim first and last. He was trying to pierce the secret of existence to read the riddle that has never been solved. What am I? Whence have I come? Whither am I going? What meaning has the pain I suffer, the evil that men do? Can evil be included in God's scheme?" And it was well, he told himself as he pressed forward, that the flame in him burnt unwaveringly, which assured him of his kinship with the eternal, of the kinship of all created things, so unsettling and perplexing were the conclusions at which he arrived. Summoned to dinner he sat at table with stupid hands and evasive eyes. Little Johnny, who was, as Polly put it, as sharp as mustard, was prompt to notice his uncle's vacancy. What you staring at, Nunky? He demanded his mouth full of rolly pudding, which he was stuffing down with all possible dispatch. Hush, Johnny, don't tease your uncle. What do you mean, my boy? I mean, young John squeezed his last mouthful over his windpipe and raised his plate. I mean, you look just like you were seeing a eminy, more pudding on Polly. What does the child mean, an anemone? No, said John with the immense contempt of five years. I didn't say an anemone. Here he began to tuck in anew, aiding the slow work of his spoon with his more habile fingers. Her eminy is the eminy, like on the picture on Polly's room. One, one's the English, and one's the eminy. It's the battle of Waterloo, explained Polly. He stands in front of it every day. Yes, and when I'm a big man I'm going to be a soldier and wear a red coat and make bung. And he shot an imaginary gun at his sister, who squealed and ducked her head. An ancient wish, my son, said Marnie, when Johnny had been reproved and trotty comforted. Tom, thumbs like you, have voisted since the world or rather since war first began. Don't care. Nunky, why is to English and why is to eminy? But Marnie shrank from the gush of what's and why's. He would let loose on himself. Did he attempt to answer this question? Come, shall uncle make you some boats to sail in the wash-tob? With a mast and sails in everything, cried John wildly, and throwing his spoon to the floor he scrambled from his chair. Oh, yes, Nunky, dear Nunky! echoed the shadow. Oh, you cupboard-lovers, you, said Marnie, as order restored and sticky mouths wiped, two pudgy hands were thrust with a new kindness into his. He led the way to the yard, and having whittled out for the children some chips left by the builders, he lighted his pipe and sat down in the shade of the house. Here, through a veiling of smoke which hung motionless in the hot still air, he watched the two eager little bottles before him add their quota to the miracle of life. End of Part Three, Chapter Two Part Three, Chapter Three of Australia Felix, this LibriVox recording is in the public domain, Australia Felix by Henry Handel Richardson, Part Three, Chapter Three. Polly had no such absorbing occupation to tide her over these empty days of waiting, and sometimes, especially late in the afternoon, when her household duties were done, and her children safely at play, she found it beyond her power to stitch quietly at her embroidery. Letting the canvas fall to her knees, she would listen, listen, listen, until the blood sang in her ears for the footsteps and knocks at the door that never came, and did she draw back the window curtain and look out, there was not a soul to be seen, not a trace of the string of prosperous paying patients she had once imagined winding their way to the door. And meanwhile Richard was shut up in his dreadful notes in the Bible which had pinched her heart even to think of. He really did not seem to care whether he had a practice or not. All the new instruments got from Melbourne, they unused in their casings, and the horse was eating its head off at over a pound a week in the livery barn. Polly shrank from censuring her husband even in thought, but as she took up her work again and went on producing in wools a green basket of yellow fruit on a magenta ground, she could not help reflecting what she would have done at this pass had she been a man. She would have announced the beginning of her practice in big letters in the star and she would have gone down into the township and mixed with people and made herself known. With Richard it was almost as if he felt a verse from binging himself into public notice. Only another month now and the second instalment of interest would fall due. Polly did not know exactly what the sum was, but she did know the date. The first time she had no difficulty in meeting the bill owing to their economy in furnishing. But what about this one and the next again? How were payments to be made and kept up if the patients would not come? She wished with all her heart that she was ten years older, for what could a person who was only 18 be supposed to understand of business? Richard's invariable answer did she venture a word was not to worry her little head about such things. While the week had dribbled away in the same fashion Polly began to be afraid the date of payment had slipped his memory altogether. She would need to remind him of it even at the risk of vexing him. And having cast about for a pretext to intrude she decided to ask his advice on a matter that was giving her much uneasiness although had he been really busy she would have gone on keeping it to herself. It related to little Johnny. Johnny was a high spirited passionate child who needed most careful handling. At first she had managed him well enough but ever since his five months boarding out he had fallen into deceitful ways and the habit of falsehood was gaining on him. Bad by nature Polly felt sure the child was not but she could not keep him on the straight path now he had discovered that a lie might save him a punishment. He was not to be shamed out of telling it and the only other cure Polly knew of was whipping. She whipped him and provoked him to fury. A new misdeed on his part gave her the handle she sought. Johnny had surreptitiously entered her pantry and stolen a plateful of cakes. Taxed with the theft he denied it and cornered laid Adam-like the blame on his companion asserting that Trotty had persuaded him to take the goodies though bewildered innocence was writ all over the baby's chubby face. Marnie had the young sinner up before him but he was able neither to touch the child's heart nor to see the gravity of what he had done. Never being allowed inside the surgery John could not now take his eyes off the wonderful display of golden, purple and red moths which were pinned without stretched wings to a sheet of cork. He stood o' mouthed and absent-minded and only once shot a blue glance at his uncle to say, but if dare so bad he then why did God make lies and a devil? Which intelligent query hit the nail of one of Marnie's own misgivings No real depravity was his verdict still too much of a handful it was plain for Polly's inexperience a problem for John himself to tackle my dear why should we have to drill a non-existent morality into his progeny besides I'm not going to have you blamed for bad results later on he would write to John there and then and request that Johnny be removed from their charge Polly was not prepared for this summary solution of her dilemma and began to regret having brought it up though she could not but agree with Richard that it would never do for the younger child to be corrupted by a bad example however she kept her wits about her did John take the boy away said she she was afraid she would have to ask for a larger housekeeping allowance the withdrawal of the money for Johnny's board would make a difference to their income of course returned Marnie easily and was about to dismiss the subject but Polly stood her ground talking of money Richard I don't know whether you remember you've been so busy that it's only about a fortnight now till the second lot of interest falls due what a fortnight exclaimed her husband and reached out for an almanac good Lord so it is and nothing doing yet Polly absolutely nothing well dear you can't expect to jump into a big practice all at once can you but you see I think the trouble is not nearly enough people know you've started and a little imploringly and very apologetically Polly unfolded her artless schemes for self-advertisement wife I've a grave suspicion said Marnie and took her by the chin while I've sat here with my head in the clouds you've been worrying over ways and means and over having such an impractical old dreamer for a husband now child that won't do I didn't marry to have my girl puzzling her little brains where her next day's dinner was to come from away with you to your stitching things will be all right trust to me and Polly did trust him and was so satisfied with what she had affected that raising her face for a kiss she retired with an easy mind to overhaul Johnny's little wardrobe but the door having clicked behind her Marnie's air of forced assurance died away for an instant he hesitated beside the table on which a rampart of books lay open then vigorously clapped each volume two and moved to the window chewing at the ends of his beard a timely interruption what the dickens had he been about to forget himself in this fool's paradise when the crassest of material anxieties that of pounds, shillings, and pence was crouched wolf-like at his door that night he wakened with a jerk from an uneasy sleep though at noon the day before the thermometer had registered over a hundred in the shade it was now bitterly cold and these abrupt changes of temperature always whipped up his nerves even after he'd piled his clothes and an opossum rug on top of the blankets he could not drop off again he lay staring at the moonlit square of the window and thinking the black thoughts of night what if he could not manage to work up a practice found it impossible to make a living his plate had been on the door for close on two months now and he had barely a five-pound note to show for it what was to be done here Polly's words came back to him with new stress not nearly enough people know you've started that was it Polly had laid her finger on the hitch the gentile manners of the old country didn't answer here instead of sitting twiddling his thumbs waiting for patients to seek him out he ought to have adopted the screaming methods of advertisement in vogue on Ballarat to have had Holloway's pills sold here teeth extracted painlessly cures guaranteed painted man high on his outside house wall to have gone up and down and round the township to have been on the spot when accidents happened to have hobnobbed with Tom Dick and Harry in bars and saloons and he saw a figure that looked like his the centre of a boisterous crowd saw himself slapped on the back by dirty hands shouting and shouted to drinks he turned his pillow to drive the image away whatever he had done or not done the fact remained that a couple of weeks hence he had to make up the sum over thirty pounds and again he discerned a phantom self this time a humble subsequent for an extension of term brought up short against Doc Ock's stony visage flouted by his coxie Clark once more he turned his pillow these quarterly payments which dotted all his coming years were like little Rock Island studying the surface of an ocean and telling of the sunken continent below this monstrous thousand odd pounds he had been full enough to borrow never would he be able to pay off such a sum never again be free from the incubus of debt meanwhile not the ground he stood on not the roof over his head could actually be called his own he had also been too pushed for money at the time to take Ock Ock's advice and ensure his life these thoughts spun themselves to a nightmare web in which he was the hapless fly putting a finger to his wrist he found he had a pulse of a hundred that was not uncommon to him he took his bed to douse his head in a basin of water Polly, only half awake sat up and said what's the matter dear, are you ill? in replying to her he disturbed the children the door of whose room stood ajar and by the time quiet was restored further sleep was out of the question he dressed and quitted the house day was breaking the moon, but an hour back a globe of polished silver had now no light left in her and stole a misty ghost that uncolored sky a bank of clouds that had their night camp on the summit of Mount Warnheap was beginning to disperse and the air had lost its edge he walked out beyond the cemetery then sat down on a tree stump and looked back the houses that nestled on the slope were growing momentary whiter but the flat was still sunk in shadow and haze making old Warnheap for all its half dozen miles of distance seemed near enough to be touched by hand but even in full daylight this woody peak had a way of tricking the eye from the brow of the western hill with the flat out of sight below it appeared to stand at the very foot of those streets that headed east first of one, then of another moving with you as you changed position like the eyes of a portrait that follow you wherever you go and now the sky was streaked with crimson matter the last clouds scattered drenched in orange and rose and flames burned in the glass of every window-pane up came the tip of the sun's rim grew to a fiery quarter to a half till bounding free from the horizon it began to mount and to lose its girth in the immensity of the sky the phantasms of the night yielded like the clouds to its power he was still reasonably young reasonably sound and had the better part of a lifetime before him rising with a fresh alacrity he whistled to his dog and walked briskly home to bath and breakfast looking at the heel of another empty day his nervous restlessness took him anew from her parlor Polly could hear the thud of his feet going up and down up and down his room and it was she who was to blame for disturbing him yet what else could I do and meditatively pricking her needle in and out of the window curtain Polly fell into a reverie over her husband and his ways how strange Richard was how difficult first to be able to forget all about how things stood with him and then to be twice as upset as other people John demanded the immediate delivery of his young son undertaking soon to knock all nasty tricks out of him on the day fixed for Johnny's departure husband and wife for a stir soon after dawn Marnie was to have taken the child down to the coach office but Johnny had been awake since two o'clock with excitement and was now so fractious that Polly tied on her bonnet and accompanied them to Richard's hatred of a scene you just walk on dear and get his seat, she said while she dragged the cross-tired child on her hand to the public house where even at this hour a posse of idlers hung about and she did well to be there instantly on arriving Johnny set up a wail because there was talk of putting him inside the vehicle and this persisted until the coachman, a goat bearded Yankee came to the rescue and said he was darned if such a plucky young nipper wouldn't get his way he'd have the child tied on beside him in the box-seat be blowed if he wouldn't but even this did not satisfy Johnny and while Marnie went to procure a length of rope he continued to prance around his aunt and to tug ceaselessly at her sleeve can I drive Aunt Polly, can I drive ask him can I drive he roared beating her skirts with his fists he was only silenced by the driver threatening to throw him as a juicy morsel to the gang of bush-rangers who sure as blazers would be waiting to stick the coach up directly at entered the bush husband and wife lingered to watch the start when the champing horses took a headlong plunge forward and together with the coach were swallowed up in a whirlwind of dust a last glimpse discovered Johnny pale and wide-eyed at the lurching speed but sitting bravely erect the spirit of your brother is in that child my dear said Marnie as they made to walk home poor little Johnny said Polly and wiped her eyes if only he was going back to a mother who loved him and would understand I'm sure no mother could have done more for him than you love yes, but a real mother wouldn't need to give him up however naughty he'd been I think the young farmer might have shown some regretted parting from you after all this time returned her husband to whom it was offensive if even a child was lacking in good feeling he never turned his head well, I suppose it's a fact as they say that the natural child is the natural barbarian Johnny never meant any harm it was I who didn't know how to manage him said Polly staunchly why, Richard, what is the matter? for letting her arm fall Marnie had dashed to the other side of the road good God Polly, look at this this was a printed notice nailed to a shed which announced that a sale of frontages in Mayer and Webster streets would shortly be held but it's not our road, I don't understand good Lord, don't you see that if they're there already they'll be out with us before we can say Jack Robinson and then where shall I be? gave back Marnie testily let's talk it over but first come home and have breakfast then, yes, then I think you should go down and see Mr. Henry and hear what he says you're right, I must see Ock Ock confound the fellow it's he who's led me in for this and probably he'll know some way out what else is a lawyer for dear? quite true, my Polly nonetheless it looks as if I were in for a run of real bad luck all along the line End of part three, chapter three