THE LAD FROM THE BUSH.

Otago Witness, Issue 3097, 23 July 1913, Page 82

THE LAD FROM THE BUSH.

Uy E. Gladys Harvey.

Nancy Landon stood watching the departure of the big-Orient liner with bursting heart and aching brain. It was starting for Australia, and she longed to go with it. Her home lay in sunny New South Wales, while she was in London — friendless and almost penniless. Two years ago she had left Australia with hopes and ambitions floating very high. A sister of her father’s, coming to them for a long visit, had elected to take the girl back with her. Nancy’s delight was unbounded. It was not for the sake of the trip alone, but she had pictured a world of big things—a world wherein she longed to enter. She was tired of the narrow sphere in which .she moved—where she had grown from childhood to girlhood. Assisting her mother in her household duties seemed to her fiery young spirifa dreadfully commonplace existence. She likened herself to an eagle with clipped wings, and hurt those who loved her best by her discontent and‘railings. Thus when her chance came they let her lake it, judging rightly that home would take on a very different -aspect when thousands of miles lay between it and a cramped London life. And they wore right. From Warrenella to Avon Gardens was a far stretch, and Nancy had long since found out that the big white stone house did not hold half the comfort to be found in the old station home. Its stateliness appalled her, and she found herself crying out that it was too stiff—too artificial. She soon longed for the shabby cosiness of the old station house, and, more than all, she missed the mother love that had permeated it all. She curled under the downy coverlid in her aunt’s big guestchamber, ,and the tears rose and welled down her- cheeks. She wanted badly to feel her mother’s good-night kiss, to have her father’s warm embrace. But withal her heart’s loneliness, the first few months sped by in a whirl of joy and pleasure. Mrs Chiverton look her young relation everywhere. When agreeing to Nancy’s visit to England, Mr Landon had stipulated that she was not to receive either jewellery or furs from her aunt. His ch.irer vision had seen ahead of the present. He foresaw a day when the call of kindred .should stir her heart; when the memory of her homeland would strike an aching pain and she would want to stretch out imploring hands and cry to be taken back to the dear home life that she had thought so slow. He knew that the day would soon come when scented ballrooms and beautifully-dressed crowns went for nothing. Nancv had to how to her father's—whim she called it—and wore her Aunt Helen’s jewels when she wanted to look extra smart, or her furs when she wanted to he extra warm. Eighteen months passed by, and then the Australian girl’s sun set suddenly in a sombre sea of grey. The first grief of her life came to her when she was awakened one morning to be told her aunt was dead. And she had died without any provision for the niece she had loved so well Like many more warm-hearted women. Mrs Chiverton had not an atom of business in her whole composition ; her affairs were in a state of utter confusion, and, as there was no will, her husband V, nephew came into possession of everything. For Nancy there was absolutely nothing, and she saw the jewels she had worn, the furs she had borrowed, handed over to a stranger. In her heart she railed at her father’s short-sighted provisos. As soon as possible Nancy left Avon Gardens and found boar] and lodging in a part of London where the houses were smaller and darker, and the odour of cooking permeated the air day and night. Her landlady had been one of Mr§ Chiverton’s old servants, and her respectability was assured; that was one comfort—indeed, looking around the dark walls and sparsely-furnished room she was to call her own. Nancy was inclined to consider it the only one. From the first she had set herself to find employment. Sometimes she would see something that looked promising-; she would hurry through the seething London crowds to find, alas: that she was too late. In a very short time her few pounds dwindled to shillings, and still she had found nothing to do. 'She began to grow despairing. It appalled her to think that out «{ these millions of souls there was not one to whom she could turn for assistance. Rhe could not cable for money; and even if she could have done so some

paragraphs of her mother’s last letter kept coming to her mind. “Things are very bad with us at present, dearie, and I am glad yon are out of it all. I do not know how jve are to meet our debts this year. I am not spending a shilling more than I can help. 1 am trying my hand on some shirts for dad; anything to save'a little. Father and I are so glad our little girl is in a sheltered nest, and we are thankful beyond words to Aunt Helen for taking charge of her while the clouds are so near the horizon. That seems an illfitting figure of speech, for it seems that it will never rain again. Oh, heaven, will this drought ever break !■” After that, how could she ask them for assistance? A month went by, and still she had not found employment. She was almost desperate, and now only paid *ov her'room. She professed to enjoy scraping for herself, or getting her meals elsewhere, but it was a marvel to herself to find how small a store of food kept her alive and strong enough to pace the street waiting for the evening paper to appear that she might scan the “wanted” pages for something she could do. Uut she. was sure to find that anything in the least suitable would be beyond walking distance, and her empty purse did away with the thought of cabs or omnibuses;^ She was sick to death when* she walked down to see the liner out. She had some wild scheme of trying to smuggle herself on board and of throwing herself upon the captain’s mercy when out at sea. But no opportunity offered itself. It seemed to the unhappy girl that mouse could scarcely have crept aboard without those sharp-eyed officers spying it. She waited until the boat started, then turned to go back to her cheerless lodging. “Miss Nancy I” The ejaculation came from a brownfaced youth beside her. She looked at him in a dazed manner. She did not know him. He spoke again. “It is surely the boss’s daughter from Warrenella. I am Jack—Hack Harte. You surely remember me.” Nancy never forgpt that minute in her life, it seemed to her that she had been on the verge of black despair—on the edge of a precipice from where one could only see great pits of darkness. And hero, as a friend from heaven, came to her the bronzed, homely face of a lad who had been born and. bred on the dear station home that seemed so far away at this momept. Jack had lived on Warrenella until he was 16-; then his parents had taken him to see the sights of Sydney, and the glitter and excitement of a life in a circus troupe had been too groat an attraction for the bush boy". He soon wormed his wav into the heart of the cheery proprietor, and the morning after they left Sydney, the chief trainer found master 'Jack fast asleep among the performing dogs. The boy had been with the circus ever since, and he had just then been posting a letter to his mother. That was how he came to be there. But to poor bewildered and stranded Nancy he seemed a veritable knight of rescue. He had always been an observant lad, and now, as he looked into her troubled eyes, he knew that he had come at the right time. He saw despair in their dark depths, and physical and mental suffering in the white, pinched face. He led her to a seat and questioned her frankly. And she was glad to talk. Glad to have someone to turn to for advice and help. She gave him a graphic account of her endeavour to secure a situation and the disappointment following such failures. She closed the recital somewhat abruptly. “To-day Fate seemed to have dogged my footsteps to the last limit, but I feel so* much cheered through meeting you, and 1 know you will help 'me. Please get me something to do if possible; it does not matter what it is. Here is my address. Do come round and tell me your adventures. I suppose you have had some stirring ones since you left Warrenella. ’ “I have not much to tell. Circus-rid-ing gets pretty slow when you are used to” it, and for downright excitement it does not come near the fun of a gallop after the brumbies on Pine or a flutter after the Darnley scrubbers.” Nancy smiled sadly as she heard the well-known names. She held out her hand and Jack noticed its slimness. His eyes quickly sought her face and he read the hunger sign in her brave brown eyes. He devised a plan which, he quickly carried out. . He put his hand deep in bis pocket, and in an hour or so had a big luncheon basket filled to overflowing. His fabrications would have gladdened the heart of an author. His idea was that be must food her without pitying her, so he hit upon the plan of an Australian lunch, and his little placard attached to the various eatables would have passed any exhibition committee. Grilled chops of INew Zealand mutton, Victorian potatoes, New South Wales apples, Queensland coffee, and rolls from South Australian flour. II ith it he sent along fruit and biscuits and dainty rolls of Australian butter. Then he carried his hamper to her. and, with no little trepidation, asked her if she would accept a share of a supper of Australian and New Zealand products. The girl’s eves were starry—she feared that she had 'reached the limit —and she put her hand against the door as if for •support. “Oh. Jack, how I thank you. You don’t know how much it means.” But Jack was away; he felt that it was like an insult to his old master to stand quietly by and hear his daughter own she was starving. Nancv carried the basket up to her room, and she sat on the bod and ate of the good things before her. Never had food tasted so relishing, nor coffee smelt so fragrant. The warmth came back to her body; the morbidness fled from her mind, and she went to sleep with a profound trust in the lad from the bush. Jack was better than his word. Next morning he was at her door before she was

down, and he did not beat about the hush at all. The Clegg Circus was losing their star equestrienne, and lie wondered if Nancy might care to fill it for a while. He said she could choose her stage name and he would do the rest—see to her horse and do all in his power to make it easy for her. “I hope I am not offending you by offering it,” ha said simply. Offend me! Offend me! Jack, you have lifted a great load from my heart. As for a name, Jet me he called Ella Warren, a reversion of Warrenella ; and if your employer will have a little patience with me I am sure that I shall succeed. Nancy faced her now life with many quaxms of fear; but they were groundless. Jack knew, her capabilities as a horsewoman, and had no hesitation in recommending her. He took all the roughest work off her hands, and if he thought the horses were a hit too fresh for her strength he would get up an hour earlier and give them some extra exercise. And he looked after her good name and got her to hoard with a dear old lady, with whom he made a compact viz., that she was to accompany Nancy to and from the circus at night, and chaperone her generally. This he d:d for the sake of Mrs Landon. He know how much she would think of such a thing. Nancy marvelled that everyone was so good to her. Even rough old Jim Clegg toned down his forcible English when speaking to her, while his motherly wife always had a soft word for the lonely young Australian. Nancy took the greatest pains with her work. The circus made a great hit with their Lady riders, and they candidly owned that Nancy’s work was far ahead of their late star. But the girl w r as far from happy, bhe could not bear to tell her mother of her broken hopes and hard privations, so she told her of her aunt’s death, but let her infer that she was with other friends. The longing for home grew unbearable. She started a savings bank, and every week she counted it up; to her eager addition it seemed so slow of increase. There was a big black horse in the circus whose jumping was the talk of the city, but whose temper was the despair of his masters: He was a waler, and from the first Nancy’s heart went out to him. She had ridden him once; but he had behaved so badly that Jack had never allowed her to make a second attempt. But now he had to take risks, for he saw with a certain dread that Nancy was failing. The excitement of her life at the circus was sapping her strength. She was fretting to be with her dear ones, and her deceit was torturing her. She could not sleep, and the shadows showed darkly in the white face. It was then that Jack took on a desperate resolve. Stevens, the proprietor of the Star Circus, was always bothering Clegg to make a match between his horse Dragoon and the Australian horse Wildfowl. Clegg was not at all keen about the match; but Jack took the greatest interest in the affair, and, unknown to his employer, signed articles of agreement for the contest. One obstacle seemed insurmountable.’ Miss Stevens was to ride her father's horse, and he -could not nominate the horse without a lady rider. Then he laid the case before Nancy, and she laughingly offered to rjde the horse. To her surprise he accepted her offer, hut he asked her to keep the affair quiet. He said that Mr Clegg was taking no personal part in the contest, hut trusted him to do his best for the circus’ name. So there was no flourish of trumpets as Jack and Nancy rode out to the meeting place. And there were only the four present when the two girls took their places on their horses. Jack felt his conscience twinge as he mounted the Australian girl on her big black. It was a steeplechase course, and both girls got away to a good start, and from the first Nancy had her horse well in hand. She x’ode him with confidence and judgment. The glorious sense of essaying something big lifted her out of herself, and she and her horse were one at heart. The last of the big waterleaps had been taken, the high stone wall had been left behind, and she was nearing the starting point before it dawned upon her that for an untried rider and an ugly-tempered mount it was a big performance. Jack was almost wild with delight when she rode in a winner; hut he asked her not to say anything about her win until next morning. In the morning lie explained what had puzzled her. lie owned that he had borrowed Wildfowl for the day, and had thereupon accepted Stevens’s challenge. One of the conditions of the race was that the prize was to go to the rider ot the winner, not the owner, as Nancy had inferred, so that the cheque of £SO was, hers, not Clegg’s at all. Jack laid it before her with his honest face beaming with pride at his own astuteness. Nancy refused to take the whole of the spoils at first, hut when she saw how hurt the hoy was at her decision, and when she thought how tactfully he had arranged the affair so that she alone might benefit, she gave way. Her eves were swimming as she held out her hands to Jack. He did not hold them long; he did not dare, for the boy from the hush was learning the biggest lesson* in life in the biggest city in the world. He could not tell how it commenced, hut he knew, and hated himself for knowing, that in some inexplicable way he was thinking more of Nancy Bandon for herself and less as his old boss’s daughter. He stopped her thanks with an abrupt suggestion. “There is a boat sailing for Australia next week; what about going out on her? I only made the match so that vou might have a chance to get away before the winter. I’ll go down and kidnap one of the passengers so that you

can have your chance. So cheer up, Miss Nancy, you will soon see Warrenella now. 1 here was a berth to spare on the Orontes, and a week later Nancy embarked for Australia. Jack stood bareheaded until the boat disappeared from sight, then he looked round furtively and wiped two big tears from his cheeks. He felt so lonely, and Australia seemed so far away. There had been splendid spring rains before Nancy’s arrival. To her bursting herat it seemed that Warrenella had never looked fairer. She came by coach unexpected, and walked in unannounced. s The delight of that welcome showed the returned daughter how warm they had kept her place in their hearts. Nancy’s ambitions never came to life again. To her Warrenella is the sweetest place on earth. She sings at her sweeping and dusting, and declares her favourite spng is, and ever will be, “Home, sweet, home.”