Page 126 - A Little Bush Maid

"’What is this all about?’"

"My word, we were glad to see Dad!" said Jim. "He came over and put his
arm round Norah--poor little kid. Mrs. Lister had screwed her wrist till it

was worse than ever it had been, and she was as white as a sheet. Dad
helped her on with her clothes. All the time Mrs. Lister was pouring out a
flood of eloquence against us, and was nearly black in the face with rage.

Dad took no notice until Norah was dressed. Then he said, ’Come to me in
the study in twenty minutes,’ and he picked Norah up and carried her inside,

where he dosed her, and fixed up her wrist. T put on my clothes and
followed them.

"Norah and T never said anything until Mrs. Lister had told her story, which
was a fine production, little truth, and three parts awful crams. Then Dad

asked for our side, and we just told him. He knew we never told lies, and he
believed us, and we told him some other things Mrs. Lister used to do to us
in the way of bullying and spite. T don’t know that Dad needed them,

because Norah’s wrist spoke louder than fifty tales, and he didn’t need any
more evidence, though after all, she might have grabbed the bad wrist by

mistake, and she had done far worse things on purpose. But the end of it
was, Mrs. Lister departed that night, and Norah and T danced a polka in the
hall when we heard the buggy drive off."

"That being the case," said Norah gravely, "we’ll all have an apple."

The apples were produced and discussed, and then it was time to think of
home, for the sun had long since left the glistening surface of the falls. So

they gathered themselves up, and reluctantly enough left the beautiful scene
behind them, with many a backward look.

The way home was rather silent. The shadow of the boys’ departure was
over them all, and Norah especially felt the weight of approaching

loneliness. With Dad at home it would have been easier to let the boys go,
but the prospect of several days by herself, with only the servants for

company, was not a very comforting one. Norah wished dismally that she
had been born a boy, with the prospect of a journey, and mates, and school,