"Surprisin' what the digestions of them city people
learn to put up with. Well, I suppose you won't be addin' to their risks
by puttin' up much of a dinner for them to-day, Mrs. Brown." He grinned
wickedly.
"You go on, imperence!" said the lady. "If I let you look into the
larder now (w'ich I won't, along of knowin' you too well), there'd be
no gettin' you out to work to-day. Murty, that turkey weighed
five-and-thirty pound!"
"Sure he looked every ounce of it," said Murty. "I niver see his
aiqual--he was a regular Clydesdale of a bird!"
"I rose him from the aig meself," said Mrs. Brown, "and I don't think
I could 'a' brung meself to 'ave 'im killed for anythink less than them
comin' 'ome. As it was, I feel 'e's died a nobil death. An' 'e'll eat
beautiful, you mark my words."
"Well, it'll be something to think of the Boss at the head of his table,
investigatin' a Billabong turkey again," said Boone, putting down his
empty cup. "And as there's nothing more certain than that they'll all be
out at the stables d'reckly after dinner, wantin' to see the 'orses, you
an' I'd better go an' shine 'em up a bit more, Mick." They tramped out
of the kitchen, while Mrs. Brown waddled to the veranda and cast further
anxious glances at the bank of clouds lying westward.
Norah was watching them, too. She was sitting in the corner of the
compartment, as the swift train bore them northward, with her eyes glued
to the country flying past.
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