Page 70 - An Australian Lassie

Nancy had a bowl of porridge and milk in the kitchen, superintended in the eating of it by Mary, who was
giving baby her morning portion of bread and milk.

Cyril carried his porridge plate to the verandah that he might watch if Betty was lurking around in the hopes
of breakfast.

And Mr. Bruce read the paper and sipped a cup of abominably made coffee serenely.

They were such a scattered family at breakfast time usually, that one away made little difference. No one but
Cyril missed Betty at the table. Her services in the house were missed--so many duties had almost
unnoticeably slipped upon her small shoulders, and now it was found there was no one to do them but
slip-shod overworked Mary.

Just as Cyril was setting off to school Mary ran after him with a newspaper parcel of clumsy bread and jam
sandwiches.

"T'm not sending Miss Betty's," she said--"it'll teach her not to clear out of the way again."

Mrs. Bruce put her head out of the kitchen window--she had not had "time" for any breakfast yet beyond a
cup of tea.

"Send Betty home again," she said; "she shan't go to school till her work's done."

But even at eleven o'clock no Betty had arrived. Mary, who had done all the washing-up--and done some of it
very badly--was sent by her mistress to strip Betty's bed and leave it to air. And she found the note on the
pincushion, and after reading it through twice, carried it in open-eyed amazement to her mistress, who was
eating a peach as she sat on the verandah edge, and merely said, "Very well, give it to your master."

So Mr. Bruce took it, and opened it very leisurely, and then started and said: "Ye gods!" and read it through to
himself first and then out aloud.

"DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER" (it said)--

"T am going away from my childhood's home to make a fortune for all of you. My voice is my fortune. When
T've made it T shall come back to you. So good-bye to you all, and may you be very happy always.

"Your loving daughter, "BETTY."

Mrs. Bruce put down her peach and said: "Read it again, will you, dear," in a quiet steady way as though she
were trying to understand.

And Mr. Bruce read it again, and then passed it over to her to read for herself.

"She's somewhere close at hand, of course!" he said. "Silly child!"

"She couldn't go very far, could she?" asked Mrs. Bruce, seeking comfort.

Mr. Bruce shook his head.

"One never quite knows what Betty could do," he said. "She's gone to find her fortune, she says. T wonder
now if that is her old crazy idea of hunting for a gold mine. No! 'My voice is my fortune,' she says. Good lord!
Whom has she been talking to? What books has she been reading?"