II
There was an interval in the dancing, and they were having games. Red was of course still bawling out instructions and directions, being the colonel of the feast. He was in his element, playing top sawyer.
The next game was to be “Modern Proposals.” It sounded rotten to Jack. Each young man was to make an original proposal to an appointed girl. Great giggling and squirming even at the mention of it.
Easu still held the middle of the floor. Jack thought it was time to butt in. With his hands in his pockets he walked coolly into the middle of the room.
“You people don’t know me, and I don’t know you,” he found himself announcing in his clear English voice. “Supposing I call this game.”
Carried unanimously!
The young men lined up, and Easu, after standing loose on his legs for some time just behind Jack, went and sat down somewhat discomfited.
Jack pushed Tom on to his knees before the prettiest girl in the room—the prettiest strange girl, anyhow. Tom, furiously embarrassed on his knees, stammered:
“I say! There’s a considerable pile o’ socks wantin’ darning in my ol’ camp. I’d go so far as to face the parson, if you’d do ’em for me.”
It was beautifully non-committal. For all the Bushies were at heart terrified lest they might by accident contract a Scotch marriage, and be held accountable for it.
Jack was amused by the odd, humorous expression of the young bush-farmers. Joe Low, scratching his head funnily, said: “I’ll put the pot on, if you’ll cook the stew.” But the most approved proposal was that of a well-to-do young farmer who is now a J. P. and head of a prosperous family.
“Me ol’ dad an’ me ol’ lady, they never had no daughters. They gettin’ on well in years, and they kind o’ fancy one. I’ve gotter get ’em one, quick an’ lively. I’ve fifteen head o’ cattle an’ seventy-six sheep, eighteen pigs an’ a fallowin’ sow. I’ve got one hundred an’ ninety-nine acres o’ cleared land, and ten improved with fruit trees. I’ve got forty ducks an’ hens an’ a flock o’ geese an’ no one home to feed ’em. Meet me Sunday mornin’ eight-forty sharp at the cross roads, an’ I’ll be there in me old sulky to drive y’out an’ show y’.”
And the girl in pink with the wide smile, answered seriously:
“I will if Mother’ll let me, Mr. Burton.”
The next girl had been looming up like a big coal-barge. She was a half-caste, of course named Lily, and she sat aggressively forwards, her long elbows and wrists much in evidence, and her pleasant swarthy face alight and eager with anticipation. Oh, these Missioner half-castes!
Jack ordered Easu forward.
But Easu was not to be baited. He strode over, put his hand on the fuzzy head, and said in his strong voice:
“Hump y’r bluey and come home.”
The laugh was with him, he had won again.