Page 111 - A Little Bush Maid

River" and more modern songs, which aren’t half so sweet as the old
Christy Minstrel ditties. After they had exhausted all the choruses they

knew, Harry "obliged" with one of Gordon’s poems, recited with such
boyish simplicity combined with vigour that it quite brought down the

audience, who applauded so loudly that the orator was thankful for the
darkness to conceal his blushes.

"Old Harry’s our champion elocutioner at school, you know," Wally said.
"You should have heard him last Speech Day! He got more clapping than

all the rest put together."

"Shut up, young Wally!" growled Harry in tones of affected wrath.

"Same to you," said Wally cheerfully. "Why, you had all the mammas

howling into their hankies in your encore piece!"

After which nothing would satisfy Norah but another recitation, and

another after that; and then the timber ended, and there was only the level
plain be tween them and home, with the moon just high enough to make it

sufficiently light for a gallop. They tore wildly homeward, and landed in a
slightly dishevelled bunch at the gate of the paddock.

No one was about the stables.

"Men all gone off somewhere," said Jim laconically, proceeding to let his
pony go. His example was followed by each of the others, the steeds
dismissed with a rub and a pat, and the saddles placed on the stands.

"Well, T don’t know about you chaps," said Jim, "but T’m as hungry as a

hunter!"

"Same here," chorused the chaps.

"Come along and see what good old Brownie’s put by for us," said Norah,

disappearing towards the house like a small comet.