The top of my desire
Is just to meet a mate o’ mine.
Henry Lawson.

It had suddenly become hot “truly Christmas” weather, Norah called it, as she stood waiting on the Cunjee platform for a train which, in accordance with all railway traditions at Christmas, was already over an hour late. Norah felt it hard that to-day, of all days in the year, it should be so when Jim was actually coming home for good! At the thought of Jim’s arrival she hopped cheerfully on one leg, completely oblivious of onlookers, and looked up the shining line of rails for the thousand-and-first time. Would the old train never come?

“Aren’t you contriving to keep warm, with the mercury trying to break the thermometer? Or do you dance merely because you feel like it?” asked a friendly voice; and Norah turned with a little flush of pleasure to greet the Cunjee doctor. She and Dr. Anderson respected each other very highly.

“Because I feel like it, I expect,” she said, laughing and shaking hands.

“Which my wide professional experience leads me to diagnose as the fact that you’re probably waiting for Jim!” said the doctor, gravely. “There’s a certain hectic flush, an intermittent pulse, which convinces me of your painful state, when coupled with the restlessness of the eye.”

“Which eye?” asked Norah anxiously.

“Both,” said the doctor. “Don’t be flippant with your medical man. So he’s really coming, Norah?”

“Yes,” said Norah, “and I don’t care if I am excited so’d you be, doctor. Billy’s outside with the horses, and he’s just as excited as I am.”

“Billy!” said the doctor. “But he’d never say more than ‘Plenty!’ no matter how excited he was.”

“No, of course not, but then he finds it such a useful word,” Norah said a little vaguely. She was peering up the rails. Suddenly she spun round, her face glowing. “There’s the smoke she’s coming!”

Whatever additional remarks Dr. Anderson may have made fell on deaf ears, for Norah had no further ideas from that moment. The train came into view over the brow of the hill, and slid down the long slope into the station, pulling up with a mighty grinding of brakes. Almost as it stopped a door was flung open violently, and a very tall boy with the Grammar School colours on his hat jumped out, cast a hurried glance around, and then seized the small person in blue linen in an unashamed bear’s hug.

“Oh, Jim!” said Norah. “Oh, Jimmy boy!”

“Well, old kiddie,” said Jim. “You all right? My word, I am glad to see you!”

“Me, too,” said Norah. “It’s been just ages, Jim.”

“Hasn’t it?” Jim said. He started. “Oh, by Jove! There’s someone else here!”

Norah wheeled round, and uttered a little cry of joy. Another boy with the dark-blue hat band was grinning at her in most friendly fashion a thin, brown-faced boy, with especially merry dark eyes. Norah’s hands went out.

“Wally! But, how lovely! I thought you couldn’t come.”

“So did I,” said Wally Meadows, pumping her hands vigorously. “I was going home, but my aunt obligingly got measles. I’m awfully sorry for Aunt. But it’s an ill-wind that blows nowhere old Jim took pity on me, and here I am!”

“I should think so,” Norah said. “We haven’t felt a bit complete without you. Dad was saying only this morning how sorry he was you couldn’t come. He’ll get such a shock! Oh, it’s so lovely to have you two and isn’t it getting like Christmas! I’m so happy!” She jigged on one foot, regardless of interested faces watching her from the train.

“You’ve grown about a foot,” said Jim, patting her on the shoulder. “Pretty thin, too sure you’re all right?”

Norah reassured him, laughing.

“Well, you look awfully fit, if you are thin,” was Jim’s comment. “Doesn’t she, Wally?”

“Never saw her look fitter,” said Wally. “I’m glad as five bob Aunt got the measles! Oh, what a beast I am but, you know what I mean! Jim, this train’ll go on, and we’ve fifty million things in the carriage!”

“So we have!” Jim said, hurriedly, taking his hand from Norah’s shoulder and diving after his chum into the compartment they had quitted. They emerged laden with suitcases, parcels, rackets, fishing rods, golf sticks and other miscellaneous impedimenta.

“Catch!” Jim said, tossing a big box into Norah’s hands.

“Chocolates!” said Norah blissfully. “Jim, you’re an angel!”

“Always knew that,” her brother replied, dropping his load on the platform with a cheerful disregard of what might break. “Come on, Wally, we’ll get the heavy things out of the van. You watch those, Nor. Who’s in, by the way? And where’s Dad?”

“Dad’s in Cunjee; but he had business, and he couldn’t wait at the station, the train was so late. Cecil’s with him they’re both riding. I’ve got the light buggy with the ponies for you, and Billy’s driving the express for your luggage and heaps of things that Brownie wants for the house.” Norah spoke in one breath and finished with a gasp.

“Guess people must have thought you were a circus procession!” was Jim’s comment. “All right, we’ll cart the things out to Billy.”

Out at the bid express-wagon drawn by a pair of greys, Billy stood, welcoming them with a smile on his dusky countenance that Wally likened to a slit in a coconut. The luggage was piled in with special injunctions to the black boy not to put the bags of flour on anything that looked delicate whereat Billy’s smile widened to a grin, and he murmured “Plenty!” delightedly.

“That’s the lot,” Jim said. “The buggy’s at the hotel, I suppose, Norah?”

“Yes and we’re to have lunch there with Dad. And you’ve got to be awfully polite to Cecil!”

“Cecil!” said Jim, lifting his nose. “If Cecil’s anything like what he used to be ” He did not finish the sentence.

“Do we play with Cecil?” Wally asked, grinning.

“The question is, if Cecil will condescend to play with you,” Norah said. “He thinks me too much of a kid to look at ”

“Oh, does he?” asked Jim resentfully.

“But you’re both ever so much bigger than he is, so perhaps he’ll let you love him!” Norah finished.

“I’m relieved to my soul,” said Wally, with gravity. “Visions of my unrequited affection poured out on Cecil have been troubling my rest for days. May I kiss him?”

“I’d wait a little while, I think,” Norah answered. “He may be shy not that we’ve found it out yet. Indeed, he’s the unshyest person I ever met.”

“Is he very awful, Nor?”

“Oh, he’s a bit of a drawback,” Norah said. “Dad says he’s not bad at heart, only so spoilt and he’s just terribly bumptious, Jim, and thinks he can do everything; and his clothes are lovely! He isn’t caring for me a bit to-day, ’cause he gave me a broad hint that he wanted to ride Bobs, and I didn’t take it.”

“Ride Bobs!” exclaimed Jim, in amazement. “Well, I should think you didn’t!”

“Well, I felt rather a pig, considering he’s our guest,” Norah said, a little contritely. “If it were you or Wally, now but he’s really got an awful seat, Jim, and Murty says he’s a hand like a ham on a horse’s mouth! I didn’t feel I could let him have Bobs.”

“Bobs is your very special property no one but an ass would ask for him, and I told Cecil last year you were the only person who ever rode him,” said Jim indignantly. “Surely there are enough horses on the place without him wanting to collar your pony!”

“Well, he didn’t get him,” said Norah, tranquilly, “so that’s all right and you needn’t worry, Jimmy. I do think, if only one could get him off his high horse, he wouldn’t be at all bad perhaps he’ll thaw now you boys are here. I hope he will, for his own sake, ’cause he’d have such a much better time.”

“Well, if he’s going to be patronizing ” Jim began.

“Ah, perhaps he won’t I don’t believe he could try to patronize you!” Norah glanced lovingly at her tall brother. “You’re nearly as big as Dad, Jimmy, aren’t you? and Wally’s going to be too.”

“Ill weeds grow apace,” quoted the latter gentleman solemnly. “Jim’s a splendid example of that proverb.”

“M’f!” said Norah. “How about yourself?”

“I’m coming up as a flower!” Wally replied modestly. “A Christmas lily, I should think!” whereat Jim murmured something that sounded “More like an artichoke!” His exact remark, however, was lost, for at that moment they arrived at the hotel, just as Mr. Linton emerged from it, and Jim quickened his pace, his face alight.

“Dad!”

“Well, my boy!” They gripped hands, and David Linton’s eye kindled as it dwelt on the big fellow. “Glad to have you back, old son. Why Wally!”

“Turned up like a bad penny, sir,” said Wally, having his hand pumped in turn. “Hope you’ll forgive me it’s pretty cool to arrive without an invitation.”

“As far as I know, you had invitations from all the family,” said Mr. Linton, laughing. “We regard you as one of the oldest inhabitants now, you know. At any rate, I’m delighted to see you; the mistress of Billabong must answer for herself, but she doesn’t look cast down!”

“She’s been fairly polite,” Wally said. “On the whole I don’t feel as shy as I was afraid of feeling! I was horribly scared of having Christmas with my aunt but she’s chosen measles instead, so I expect she was just as scared as I was!”

“It’s probable,” said his host, laughing.

“You haven’t grown up a bit, Wally, and it’s such a comfort!” Norah said.

“I’m getting old and reverend,” said Wally severely, “and it’s up to you to treat me with respect, young Norah. Sixteen’s an awful age to support with any cheerfulness.” His brown face at the moment gave the impression of never having been serious during the sixteen years he lamented. “As for this ancient mariner” indicating Jim “you can see the signs of senile decay quite plainly!”

“Ass!” said Jim affectionately. He broke off. “How are you, Cecil?”

Cecil, coming out of the hotel, a dapper figure beside the two tall schoolboys, gave languid greetings. He cast at Jim a glance of something like envy. Height was the one thing he longed for, and it seemed to him hard that this seventeen-year-old youngster should be rapidly approaching six feet, while he, three years older, had stopped short six inches under that measurement. However, generally speaking, Cecil was uncommonly well satisfied with himself, and not even the contemplation of Jim’s superior inches could worry him for long. He asked polite questions about the journey, and laughed at the freely expressed opinion that the day was hot “You should go to Sydney if you want to know what heat is,” he said, with the superiority of the travelled man; “Victoria really has no heat to talk about!”

“Well, I’m a Queenslander,” said Wally bluntly, “and we’re supposed to know about heat there. And I do think to-day is beastly hot look at my collar, it’s like a concertina! Sydney heat is hot, and Brisbane heat is hotter, but Victorian heat has a hotness all of its own!” Whereat everybody laughed, and the discussion was adjourned for lunch.

It was a merry meal; and if the fare was no better than that of most township hotels, the spirits of the party were too high to trouble about such trifles as tough meat, watery puddings, and weary butter that bore out Wally’s remarks about the heat by threatening to float away on a sea of its own oil. Everything was rose colour in Norah’s estimation that day. She sat by Jim and beamed across the table at her father and Wally. Even Cecil found himself at times included in the beam, and took it meekly, for the happy face was infectious, while the frank delight of the boys in having her with them again was to a certain extent educational to the outsider. There was no lack of manliness in Jim’s strong, handsome face. If he found it worth his while, Cecil reflected, to make such a fuss over a child, it might be possible that she was not altogether a person to be snubbed. So he was unusually affable to his small cousin, and lunch passed off very successfully.

Afterwards there was shopping to be done. A long list of groceries had been made out by Mrs. Brown, who professed herself far too busy with Christmas preparations to come in person, and had laid the responsibility on Norah, not without misgivings. It was, perhaps, fortunate that the storekeepers were able to rise to the contents of the list unaided, for Norah was scarcely in a condition to grapple with problems relating to anything so ordinary as groceries, and found it indeed difficult to read out her list coherently, with Jim standing sentinel in the doorway and Wally wandering about the shop sampling all he could find, from biscuits to brooms. On one occasion, when making a special effort to preserve her dignity, she came to the item “flaked oatmeal,” and asked the shopman in rather frigid tones for “floked atemeal,” which had a paralysing effect on the unoffending storekeeper, while Wally retired to the shelter of a pile of saucepans, and shrieked. Thus the business of necessary purchases passed off cheerfully; and then what Norah termed the more interesting shops saddlers’ and stationers’ were visited, with a view to Christmas. Finally Jim brought the buggy from the hotel, and they picked up their lighter parcels.

“Surely that’s all?” Jim inquired, as Norah and Wally came out of the fruiterer’s laden with bags of assorted sizes, which they dumped thankfully into the buggy, with the immediate result that a bag of peaches burst, and had to be rescued from all over the floor. “Nor., you’ll not have a penny left, and we’ll all be violently ill if we eat half you’ve bought. Come on home.”

“Brownie’s laid in large stocks of medicine, she says,” Norah answered, tranquilly, climbing into the buggy. “So you needn’t worry, need you? But we’ve truly finished now, Jim, I think. Ready, Wally?”

“Quite,” said Wally cheerfully. “I’ve put these peaches in with the neatsfoot oil, and it seems a beautiful arrangement!” He hopped up nimbly. “Right oh, Jimmy, and pray remember I am nervous!”

“I will,” Jim grinned. He laid the whip on the ponies’ backs, and they shot forward with a bound, unused to such liberties. They went down the main street of Cunjee in a whirl of dust, and turned over the bridge spanning the river, where the ponies promptly rose on their hind legs at the sight of Dr. Anderson’s motor, and betrayed a rooted disinclination to come down from that unusual altitude. Jim handled them steadily, and presently they were induced to face the snorting horror, wherein the doctor sat, waving his hand and calling cheery Christmas greetings as they shot past, to which the three responded enthusiastically. Cunjee sank into the distance behind them.

The miles flew past. On the metalled road the rubbered tyres spun silently, and only the flying hoofs clattered and soon they had left the made road and turned on to the hard-beaten track that led to Billabong, where progress was even smoother. The tongues flew almost as swiftly as the wheels. The hot sun sank gradually, and the evening breeze sprang up. It was a time for quick questions and answers. Norah wanted details of the term just over, the sports, the prize-giving, and had to laugh over messages from those of Jim’s boy friends whom she knew; and Jim had a hundred things to ask about home the cattle, the fishing, his horses, his dogs, “Brownie,” and the prospects of fun ahead. They roared over her ducking and subsequent encounter with Cecil, and chaffed her unmercifully.

“Such a mud-lark!” said Wally, with glee. “And that prim young man! Oh, Norah, you are a dream! I’d have given something to see your face.”

“I was altogether worth seeing,” Norah remarked modestly. “When I caught sight of myself in a glass I really didn’t wonder at Cecil.” But Jim glowered and referred to the absent Cecil as a “silly ass.”

They turned in at last at the homestead gate, and the ponies fairly flew up the long paddock, something in the spirits of their drivers communicating itself to them. The house was not visible until the track had passed through a thick belt of trees, and as they came to this Jim fell silent, looking keenly ahead. Then the red roof came into view and the boy drew a long breath.

“There’s the old place,” he said. “My word, I am glad to be home!”

Under the dust-rug Norah slipped her hand on to his knee.

“It’s just lovely to have you both of you.” she added. “You’re glad, too, aren’t you, Wally?”

“I could sing!” said Wally.

“Once,” said Jim, “you could. But for some years ”

“Beast!” said Wally. “If you weren’t driving ”

“And you weren’t nervous !” grinned his chum.

“There’d be wigs on the green,” finished Norah, cheerfully. “I’ll drive, if it would be any convenience to either of you.”

“We’ll postpone it,” said Jim. “There’s Brownie at the gate, bless her old heart!”

They shot up the last furlong of the drive. At the big gate of the yard very few people, not even bishops, go to the front gate of a Bush homestead Brownie stood, her broad face beaming. As they pulled up, Murty O’Toole came forward to take the horses a marked compliment from Murty, who, like most head stockmen, was a free and independent soul.

Jim went over the wheel with a bound, and seized Brownie’s hand.

“How are you, Brownie, dear?”

“The size of him!” said she. “The shoulders. No wonder they ’ad you for captin of the football eleven, then, my dear!” The boys grinned widely. “If not eleven, then it’s four,” said Brownie placidly. “Strange, I can’t never remember which, an’ it don’t sinnerfy, any’ow. Welkim ‘ome an’ you too, Master Wally.”

“How are you, Murty?” Jim shook hands with the stockman, while Wally bowed low over Brownie’s hand.

“I’ve lived for this moment,” he said, fervently. “Brownie, you grow younger every time I go away!”

“Naturally!” said Norah from the buggy.

“Be silent, minx!” said Wally, over his shoulder. “Who are you to break in on a heart-to-heart talk, anyhow? At this present moment, Mrs. Brown, you look seventeen!”

“Get along with you, now, do!” said the delighted Brownie. “You’re no better than you was, I’m afraid, Master Wally alwuz ready for your joke!”

“Joke!” exclaimed he, indignantly. “Any one who’d make a joke of you, Brownie, would rob a church. Jim might, but I ”

“Perish the idea!” said Jim, tipping the orator’s hat over his eyes. “Come and take things out of the buggy.”

Across the yard came Mr. Linton, surrounded by a mixed assemblage of dogs. Puck and the collie had already hurled themselves upon Jim in a delirium of joy. Cecil strolled after his uncle, looking slightly amused at the scene by the gate.

“We’re quite a family,” Mr. Linton said. “I begin to feel like Mr. Pickwick at a Christmas gathering! Do you think Billabong will stand the crowd, Mrs. Brown?”

“It looks to me, sir,” said Mrs. Brown contentedly, “as if Billabong’s goin’ to ’ave the time of its life!”