Australia -- Fiction; Family life -- Fiction; Married women -- Fiction; Mothers -- Fiction
I went straight into town and cashed that draft, taking my son with
me--proud to carry him myself, though he nearly dragged my arms off. At
the same time I ascertained at the company's office that the Bendigo was
hourly expected to report herself from Sydney.
"We will go to Sydney," said I to my little companion, as we travelled
home again, rich and free. "We'll get Martha's mother to come and keep
house until we all return together--with _father_ to take care of us."
That same night I had a wire from him. He was safe at Sydney, all well;
and would I telegraph immediately to inform him how it was with me?
Would I also write fully and at once, so that he might get the letter
before he left?
"We will telegraph immediately, to set his dear mind at rest," I said to
the son, who smiled and guggled as if he perfectly understood--and I am
sure he did; "but we won't write fully and at once. We can get to him as
quickly as a letter, and he would rather have us than a million letters.
Oh, what a simply overwhelming surprise we shall give him!" I was so
full of this blissful prospect that I never thought how I might be
embarrassing him in his professional capacity.
There were no intercolonial railways then, and we could not have stood
the wear and tear of overland travel if there had been. Nor was there
any choice in the matter of sea transport. I was obliged to take the
mail steamer that brought me Aunt Kate's money, for it was the only
vessel going to Sydney that could get me there in time. I had to be very
smart to catch her, and just managed it, leaving my home at the mercy of
a plausible red-nosed charwoman who was all but a perfect stranger to
me.
Of course I was an idiot--I know that; but, as Tom says, you can't put
old heads on young shoulders, and don't want to; and there is no
occasion to remember things of that sort now. _He_ never blamed me for a
moment, and I am sure I cannot regret what I did, when I weigh the
pleasures of that expedition against what in the end we had to pay for
them. They were richly worth it.
The voyage, even without the nursemaid whom I did not feel justified in
adding to my other extravagances, not only did me no harm, but really
invigorated me. A new-made mother, I had been informed, was never
sea-sick, and my experience seemed to prove the fact; while as for baby,
in spite of his catching a little cold, which he might have caught at
home, the exquisite sea air must have been better for him than the
gutter smells of Melbourne. He was as good as gold, and the stewardess
was an angel, and we slept like tops all through our two nights on
board.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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