Page 69 - A Little Bush Maid

The old man raked the ashes together again, and placed some sticks on
them, after which he brought over the billy, and hung it above the fire to

boil. The fire quickly broke into a blaze, and he picked up the damper
again, and walked slowly back to the tent, where he paused to blow the dust

from the result of his cookery.

At this moment Norah became oppressed with a wild desire to sneeze. She

fought against it frantically, nearly choking in her efforts to remain silent,
while she wildly explored in her pockets for a nonexistent handkerchief.

As the water bursts from the dam the more violently because of its
imprisonment, so Norah’s sneeze gained intensity and uproar from her

efforts to repress it. Tt came--

"A--tish--oo--oo!"

The old man started violently. He dropped his damper and gazed round.

"What on earth’s that?" he said. "Who’s there?" For a moment Norah

hesitated. Should she run for her life? But a second’s thought showed her no
real reason why she should run. She was not in the least frightened, for it
never occurred to Norah that anyone could wish to hurt her; and she had

done nothing to make him angry. So she modestly emerged from behind a
friendly tree and said meekly, "Tt’s me."

"’Me’, is it?" said the old man, in great astonishment. He stared hard at the
little figure in the blue blouse and serge riding-skirt--at the merry face and

the dark curls crowned by the shady Panama hat. "’Me ’," he repeated. "’Me’
looks rather nice, T think. But what’s she doing here?"

"T was looking at you," Norah exclaimed.

"T won’t be unpolite enough to mention that a cat may look at a king," said
the old man. "But don’t you know that no one comes here? No young ladies

in blue dresses and brown curls--only wombats and wallabies, and
ring-tailed ’possums--and me. Not you--me, but me--me! How do you