David Linton went over to them, and
put a hand on a shoulder of each.
"You're not to be down-hearted," he said firmly. "It's bad enough, and
bitter enough--but it might be worse. The stock are safe, and the land
is there--one good shower will turn the paddocks green again. Why,
there's even most of your garden left, Tommy. And we'll build the house
and sheds better than before."
"You're jolly good, Mr. Linton," Bob said, with dry lips. "But we owe
you enough already."
"If you talk that sort of nonsense, I'll be really annoyed," David
Linton said. "Why, hard luck comes to all of us--we got burned out
ourselves once, didn't we, Norah?"
"Rather--and had to live in tents," said Norah. "No, you'll have to come
back to us at Billabong until we build up the cottage again--oh, and,
Tommy darling, I've been lonesome for you!" She put a hand on Bob's arm.
"You won't worry, Bob? One bit of bad luck isn't going to beat you!"
"I suppose it won't," Bob said slowly. "There's the insurance money,
anyhow. But it was the jolliest little home--and our very own. And I was
so jolly proud of being independent."
"Well, you're that still," Jim said. "This is a country where everybody
helps everybody else--because you and Tommy come to stay with us, and
run your stock for a while on Billabong until your own grass grows, that
isn't going to make you less independent.
Pages:
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291