ANGELA.

Auckland Star, Volume LX, Issue 52, 2 March 1929, Page 4 (Supplement)

ANGELA.

HER FIRST SCHOOL. LIFE IN THE OUTBACK. (By G. EDITH BURTON.)

Angela was a civil servant and that was rather odd after all she went through; but perhaps I'd better say quite early that Angela was a school marm, and life began in earnest when she, with a light heart and a not very heavy pair of suit cases, set out for her first country school. It was a pitch black night when Angela's slow train pulled into the tiny station of Rau-na-pnke, and a miserable drizzle of rain gave her a moist welcomc. Peering about in the misty black night, she was suddenly half blinded by a gig lamp thrust into her face. "Are you tlier newteacher?" said the owner of the light. "Well, c'mon, you take ther lamp while I git ther luggige, an' we'll have ter look slippy, 'cos I gotter new horse in an' 'ee won't stan' long." So they looked "slippy" and soon the rickety old gig was rocking along in the dark, rocky road, and the town-bred Angela was sick with fright. " 'Ang on tight an' you'll be orright. Ever bin in tlier country teachin' before? Well, if you can stand bordin' at 'Arrises, the res' i'll be child's play. We git plenty fun 'ere at times; there's a picnic next week and a darnce ter foller.- You Well, if you like I'll take an' welcome. Oh, well, doan git ther spike; ther's plenty other gals glader ther chanst."

"Settle It Quiet." At last they were there—Angela's shelter for the next six months at least. There was father Harris, in his shirt sleeves and stocking feet; mother Harris, fat and greasy, in a dirty print wrapper; there were four dirty little Harrises, all school age but one. "This is our Hemma," said Ma Harris. "She's your' bedmate an' if youse don't *it it, it won't be Hemma's forlt; a peaeefuller kid never breathed," "But, Mrs. Harris, I've been used to my own room, and I simply cannot share a bed with anyone," poor Angela found her breath at last. "Now look 'ere, miss," said Harris, with a nasty look. "I'm- chairman of this school, an' since ever I come here, it's bin ther rule that the chairman boards the teacher; you take my advice and settle in quiet with -our Hemma. The, last teacher had the tint Httle 'tins in there with 'er, an' if_ she didn't like it she knew; 'er, manners better than ,ter say so." (This last with a meaning glare.)

A Bath ob Saturday. So Angela -in a lumpy bed in shuddersome bedding, wept scalding tears into her travelling cushion, which was better thin -rocky- pillowf and bowed.vher hack \£a--'the first hdrch of a teacher's, life in the country: But we won't-linger over tse , tale of woe.| The breakfast not bad, but, oh, the' tablecloth; oh, the forks, and spoons; oh, the tea towels. "A bath? Oh, on Saturday I'll stick on ther copper for yer, an' yer can git inter one er ther tubs; ther ain't no lock on ther door. Jes* stick ther 'andlo of ther spade agin it, an' put a towel over ther winder an' you'll be as rite as rain." At night Hemma would talk; and Hemma pried into drawers and boxes, and Hemma read any letters forgotten, and Hemma tried on all hate and clothing, when teacher wasn't there. And the baby's face was dried on the tea towel, if It was handiest, and often had a "sponge over" in the mixing bowl. And when after four months little Angela—sft much littler now—shivered and shook in her mother's arms, the doctor said: "Nervous prostration, complete rest for three months." And the painfully-thin little Angela slept 16 hours without waking, in sweet, fair sheets and soft, fluffy blankets.