‘D’ye mean to call the lady a liar?’ he cried hotly.

Jim, who had a real liking for the cheerful young Irishman, evaded the awkward blow aimed at his head, and stood back, and Ben Kyley saved further trouble by seizing Tim and hustling him into a corner.

‘I’m the on’y man what’s permitted to punch the customers in this tent,’ said Ben.

At the same time Mrs. Ben descended upon Aurora and bore her off with a mighty hug, much as if she were a rebellious infant.

XVII

It was some time before Jim Done visited Mrs. Kyley’s tent again.  He bore Aurora no animosity, he had the kindliest feelings for her, but recognised that in frequenting the shanty he increased the difficulty of the situation and prolonged the task he had set himself.  A letter had come to him from Lucy Woodrow—­a bright, breezy letter, about Bush-life, about herself and the youngsters, and a good deal about him.  Certainly a pleasant enough letter, but, considered as a literary production merely, not deserving of Jim’s high appreciation of it.  Alter receiving it Jim sat down in a reverent humour and decided, with the formality of a meeting carrying a resolution, that Lucy was the only woman in the world for him, the one possible woman.  The resolution practically abolished all other women so far as he was concerned.  He could never think of another with patience, and his longing for her was so great that it left him little mind for Ryder, and scarcely any for Aurora.  He was eager to pay Boobyalla another visit, but Mike was deaf to all insinuations, and Jim consoled himself with pretty imaginative pictures in which Lucy was vividly represented sitting on the shady veranda at Macdougal’s home stead, spotted with flakes of golden sunshine filtered through the tangle of vine and creeper.  How sweet she was, how gentle, how tender, and yet brave of heart and keen-witted withal.  She had understood him better than he had understood himself.  That was very gratifying; it showed her deep interest in him, but he did not put it to himself in that bald way.  Why hadn’t he taken her up in his arms and kissed her when they parted in the garden?  Every drop of his blood prompted him to it, and something told him she would not have resented it.  He had been a fool.  He should have told her then that he loved her.  Of course, it had hardly occurred to him then that he really did love her, but he was a fool in any case for not seeing it and understanding it.

Burton and the Peetrees had resolved to try a new rush before Done called at the shanty again.

‘I have come to say goodbye, Mrs. Ben,’ he said to the big washerwoman, ‘and to thank you for a thousand kindnesses.’

‘Thank me for nothing!’ cried Mrs. Kyley.  ’Is it true you are off on the wallaby again?’

‘We shall start for Simpson’s Ranges in the morning.’

’It is so long since we’ve seen you that you won’t mind if we don’t break our hearts at parting.’  She glanced towards Aurora, who had turned her back to them.