My Brilliant Career Part 19

"You can't."

"I can."

"How?"

"I'm going with you," he said.

"You're not."

"I am."

"You're not."

I am".

"You ar-r-re not."

"I am".

"You are, ar-r-re not."

"We'll see whether I will or not in a minute or two," he said with amus.e.m.e.nt.

"But, Mr Betcham, I object to your company. I am quite capable of taking care of myself; besides, if you come home with me I will not be allowed out alone again--it will be altogether unpleasant for me."

Mrs Butler now appeared with the mail and some parcels, and Harold stowed them in the buggy.

"You'd better come in an' 'ave a drop of tay-warter, miss, the kittle's bilin'; and I have the table laid out for both of yez."

"No, thank you, Mrs Butler. I can't possibly stay today, it's getting late. I must hurry off. Good-bye! Good afternoon, Mr Beecham."

I turned my buggy and pair smartly round and was swooping off. Without a word Harold was at their heads and seized the reins. He seized his horse's bridle, where it was over the paling, and in a moment had him tied on the off-side of Barney, then stepping quietly into the buggy he put me away from the driver's seat as though I were a baby, quietly took the reins and whip, raised his hat to Mrs Butler, who was smiling knowingly, and drove off.

I was highly delighted with his action, as I would have despised him as a b.o.o.by had he given in to me, but I did not let my satisfaction appear.

I sat as far away from him as possible, and pretended to be in a great huff. For a while he was too fully occupied in making Barney "sit up" to notice me, but after a few minutes he looked round, smiling a most annoying and pleasant smile.

"I'd advise you to straighten out your chin. It is too round and soft to look well screwed up that way," he said provokingly.

I tried to extinguish him with a look, but it had not the desired effect.

"Now you had better be civil, for I have got the big end of the whip,"

he said.

"I reserve to myself the right of behaving as I think fit in my own uncle's buggy. You are an intruder; it is yourself that should be civil."

I erected my parasol and held it so as to tease Harold. I put it down so that he could not see the horses. He quietly seized my wrist and held it out of his way for a time, and then loosing me said, "Now, behave."

I flouted it now, so that his ears and eyes were endangered, and he was forced to hold his hat on.

"I'll give you three minutes to behave, or I'll put you out," he said with mock severity.

"Shure it's me wot's behavin' beautiful," I replied, continuing my nonsense.

He pulled rein, seized me in one arm, and lifted me lightly to the ground.

"Now, you can walk till you promise to conduct yourself like a Christian!" he said, driving at a walk.

"If you wait till I promise anything, you'll wait till the end of the century. I'm quite capable of walking home."

"You'll soon get tired of walking in this heat, and your feet will he blistered in a mile with those bits of paper."

The bits of paper to which he alluded were a pair of thin-soled white canvas slippers--not at all fitted for walking the eight miles on the hard hot road ahead of me. I walked resolutely on, without deigning a glance at Harold, who had slowed down to a crawling walk.

"Aren't you ready to get up now?" he inquired presently.

I did not reply. At the end of a quarter of a mile he jumped out of the buggy, seized upon me, lifted me in, and laughed, saying, "You're a very slas.h.i.+ng little concern, but you are not big enough to do much damage."

We were about half-way home when Barney gave a tremendous lurch, breaking a trace and some other straps. Mr Beecham was at the head of the plunging horse in a twinkling. The harness seemed to be scattered everywhere.

"I expect I had better walk on now," I remarked.

"Walk, be grannied! With two fat lazy horses to draw you?" returned Mr Beecham.

Men are clumsy, stupid creatures regarding little things, but in their right place they are wonderful animals. If a buggy was smashed to smithereens, from one of their many mysterious pockets they would produce a knife and some string, and put the wreck into working order in no time.

Harold was as clever in this way as any other man with as much bushman ability as he had, so it was not long ere we were bowling along as merrily as ever.

Just before we came in sight of Caddagat he came to a standstill, jumped to the ground, untied Warrigal, and put the reins in my hand, saying:

"I think you can get home safely from here. Don't be in such a huff--I was afraid something might happen you if alone. You needn't mention that I came with you unless you like. Good-bye."

"Good-bye, Mr Beecham. Thank you for being so officious," I said by way of a parting shot.

"Old Nick will run away with you for being so ungrateful," he returned.

"Old Nick will have me anyhow," I thought to myself as I drove home amid the shadows. The hum of the cicadas was still, and dozens of rabbits, tempted out by the cool of the twilight, scuttled across my path and hid in the ferns.

I wished the harness had not broken, as I feared it would put a clincher on my being allowed out driving alone in future.

Joe Slocombe, the man who acted as groom and rouseabout, was waiting for me at the entrance gate.

"I'm glad you come at last, Miss Sybyller. The missus has been in a dreadful stoo for fear something had happened yuz. She's been runnin' in an' out like a gurrl on the look-out fer her lover, and was torkin' of sendin' me after yuz, but she went to her tea soon as she see the buggy come in sight. I'll put all the parcels on the back veranda, and yuz can go in at woncest or yuz'll be late fer yer tea."

"Joe, the harness broke and had to be tied up. That is what kept me so late," I explained.

"The harness broke!" he exclaimed. "How the doose is that! Broke here in the trace, and that strap! Well, I'll be hanged! I thought them straps couldn't break only onder a tremenjous strain. The boss is so dashed partickler too. I believe he'll sool me off the place; and I looked at that harness only yesterday. I can't make out how it come to break so simple. The boss will rise the devil of a s.h.i.+ne, and say you might have been killed."

This put a different complexion on things. I knew Joe Slocombe could mend the harness with little trouble, as it was because he was what uncle Jay-Jay termed a "handy divil" at saddlery that he was retained at Caddagat. I said carelessly: