`Why,you seem to be going the same way as the Boss!'But it was Andy that edged off towards the pub.when we got near Mrs Baker's place.
`All right!'he said.`Come on!We'll have this other drink,since you want it so bad.'
We had the drink,then we buttoned up our coats and started across the road --we'd bought new shirts and collars,and spruced up a bit.
Half-way across Andy grabbed my arm and asked --`How do you feel now,Jack?'
`Oh,I'M all right,'I said.
`For God's sake!'said Andy,`don't put your foot in it and make a mess of it.'
`I won't,if you don't.'
Mrs Baker's cottage was a little weather-board box affair back in a garden.
When we went in through the gate Andy gripped my arm again and whispered --`For God's sake stick to me now,Jack!'
`I'll stick all right,'I said --`you've been having too much beer,Andy.'
I had seen Mrs Baker before,and remembered her as a cheerful,contented sort of woman,bustling about the house and getting the Boss's shirts and things ready when we started North.
Just the sort of woman that is contented with housework and the children,and with nothing particular about her in the way of brains.
But now she sat by the fire looking like the ghost of herself.
I wouldn't have recognised her at first.I never saw such a change in a woman,and it came like a shock to me.
Her sister let us in,and after a first glance at Mrs Baker I had eyes for the sister and no one else.She was a Sydney girl,about twenty-four or twenty-five,and fresh and fair --not like the sun-browned women we were used to see.She was a pretty,bright-eyed girl,and seemed quick to understand,and very sympathetic.
She had been educated,Andy had told me,and wrote stories for the Sydney `Bulletin'and other Sydney papers.She had her hair done and was dressed in the city style,and that took us back a bit at first.
`It's very good of you to come,'said Mrs Baker in a weak,weary voice,when we first went in.`I heard you were in town.'
`We were just coming when we got your message,'said Andy.
`We'd have come before,only we had to see to the horses.'
`It's very kind of you,I'm sure,'said Mrs Baker.
They wanted us to have tea,but we said we'd just had it.Then Miss Standish (the sister)wanted us to have tea and cake;but we didn't feel as if we could handle cups and saucers and pieces of cake successfully just then.
There was something the matter with one of the children in a back-room,and the sister went to see to it.Mrs Baker cried a little quietly.
`You mustn't mind me,'she said.`I'll be all right presently,and then I want you to tell me all about poor Bob.It's seeing you,that saw the last of him,that set me off.'
Andy and I sat stiff and straight,on two chairs against the wall,and held our hats tight,and stared at a picture of Wellington meeting Blucher on the opposite wall.I thought it was lucky that that picture was there.
The child was calling `mumma',and Mrs Baker went in to it,and her sister came out.`Best tell her all about it and get it over,'she whispered to Andy.`She'll never be content until she hears all about poor Bob from some one who was with him when he died.
Let me take your hats.Make yourselves comfortable.'
She took the hats and put them on the sewing-machine.
I wished she'd let us keep them,for now we had nothing to hold on to,and nothing to do with our hands;and as for being comfortable,we were just about as comfortable as two cats on wet bricks.
When Mrs Baker came into the room she brought little Bobby Baker,about four years old;he wanted to see Andy.He ran to Andy at once,and Andy took him up on his knee.He was a pretty child,but he reminded me too much of his father.
`I'm so glad you've come,Andy!'said Bobby.
`Are you,Bobby?'
`Yes.I wants to ask you about daddy.You saw him go away,didn't you?'and he fixed his great wondering eyes on Andy's face.
`Yes,'said Andy.
`He went up among the stars,didn't he?'
`Yes,'said Andy.
`And he isn't coming back to Bobby any more?'
`No,'said Andy.`But Bobby's going to him by-and-by.'
Mrs Baker had been leaning back in her chair,resting her head on her hand,tears glistening in her eyes;now she began to sob,and her sister took her out of the room.
Andy looked miserable.`I wish to God I was off this job!'he whispered to me.
`Is that the girl that writes the stories?'I asked.
`Yes,'he said,staring at me in a hopeless sort of way,`and poems too.'
`Is Bobby going up among the stars?'asked Bobby.
`Yes,'said Andy --`if Bobby's good.'
`And auntie?'
`Yes.'
`And mumma?'
`Yes.'
`Are you going,Andy?'
`Yes,'said Andy hopelessly.
`Did you see daddy go up amongst the stars,Andy?'
`Yes,'said Andy,`I saw him go up.'
`And he isn't coming down again any more?'
`No,'said Andy.
`Why isn't he?'
`Because he's going to wait up there for you and mumma,Bobby.'
There was a long pause,and then Bobby asked --`Are you going to give me a shilling,Andy?'with the same expression of innocent wonder in his eyes.
Andy slipped half-a-crown into his hand.`Auntie'came in and told him he'd see Andy in the morning and took him away to bed,after he'd kissed us both solemnly;and presently she and Mrs Baker settled down to hear Andy's story.
`Brace up now,Jack,and keep your wits about you,'whispered Andy to me just before they came in.
`Poor Bob's brother Ned wrote to me,'said Mrs Baker,`but he scarcely told me anything.Ned's a good fellow,but he's very ******,and never thinks of anything.'
Andy told her about the Boss not being well after he crossed the border.
`I knew he was not well,'said Mrs Baker,`before he left.
I didn't want him to go.I tried hard to persuade him not to go this trip.I had a feeling that I oughtn't to let him go.
But he'd never think of anything but me and the children.He promised he'd give up droving after this trip,and get something to do near home.
The life was too much for him --riding in all weathers and camping out in the rain,and living like a dog.But he was never content at home.
It was all for the sake of me and the children.He wanted to make money and start on a station again.I shouldn't have let him go.
