A Little Bush Maid | Page 6

peeped out from the angry mother's
wing, after which Norah was a blissfully adoring caretaker until the
downy balls began to get ragged, as the first wing and tail feathers
showed. Then the chicks became uninteresting, and were handed over
to Black Billy.
Besides her own pets there were Jim's.

"Mind, they're in your care," Jim had said sternly, on the evening
before his departure for school. They were making a tour of the
place--Jim outwardly very cheerful and unconcerned; Norah plunged in
woe. She did not attempt to conceal it. She had taken Jim's arm, and it
was sufficient proof of his state of mind that he did not shake it off.
Indeed, the indications were that he was glad of the loving little hand
tucked into the bend of his arm.
"Yes, Jim; I'll look after them."
"I don't want you to bother feeding them yourself," Jim said
magnanimously; "that 'ud be rather too much of a contract for a kid,
wouldn't it? Only keep an eye on 'em, and round up Billy if he doesn't
do his work. He's a terror if he shirks, and unless you watch him like a
cat he'll never change the water in the tins every morning. Lots of times
I've had to do it myself!"
"I'd do it myself sooner'n let them go without, Jim, dear," said the small
voice, with a suspicion of a choke.
"Don't you do it," said Jim; "slang Billy. What's he here for, I'd like to
know! I only want you to go round 'em every day, and see that they're
all right."
So daily Norah used to make her pilgrimage round Jim's pets. There
were the guinea pigs--a rapidly increasing band, in an enclosure
specially built for them by Jim--a light frame, netted carefully
everywhere, and so constructed that it could be moved from place to
place, giving them a fresh grass run continually. Then there were two
young wallabies and a little brush kangaroo, which lived in a little
paddock all their own, and were as tame as kittens. Norah loved this
trio especially, and always had a game with them on her daily visit.
There was a shy gentleman which Norah called a turloise, because she
never could remember if he were a turtle or a tortoise. He lived in a
small enclosure, with a tiny water hole, and his disposition was
extremely retiring. In private Norah did not feel drawn to this member
of her charge, but she paid him double attention, from an inward
feeling of guilt, and because Jim set a high value upon him.

"He's such a wise old chap," Jim would say; "nobody knows what he's
thinking of!"
In her heart of hearts Norah did not believe that mattered very much.
But when the stables had been visited and Bobs and Sirdar (Jim's
neglected pony) interviewed; when Tait and Puck had had their
breakfast bones; when wallabies and kangaroo had been inspected
(with a critical eye to their water tins), and the turtle had impassively
received a praiseworthy attempt to draw him out; when the chicks had
all been fed, and the guinea pigs (unlike the leopard) had changed their
spot for the day--there still remained the birds.
The birds were a colony in themselves. There was a big aviary, large
enough for little trees and big shrubs to grow in, where a happy family
lived whose members included several kinds of honey-eaters,
Queensland finches, blackbirds and a dozen other tiny shy things which
flitted quickly from bush to bush all day. They knew Norah and, when
she entered their home, would flutter down and perch on her head and
shoulders, and look inquisitively for the flowers she always brought
them. Sometimes Norah would wear some artificial flowers, by way of
a joke. It was funny to see the little honey-eaters thrusting in their long
beaks again and again in search of the sweet drops they had learned to
expect in flowers, and funnier still to watch the air of disgust with
which they would give up the attempt.
There were doves everywhere--not in cages, for they never tried to
escape. Their soft "coo" murmured drowsily all around. There were
pigeons, too, in a most elaborate pigeon cote--another effort of Jim's
carpentering skill. These were as tame as the smaller birds, and on
Norah's appearance would swoop down upon her in a cloud. They had
done so once when she was mounted on Bobs, to the pony's very great
alarm and disgust. He took to his heels promptly. "I don't think he
stopped for two miles!" Norah said. Since then, however, Bobs had
grown used to the pigeons fluttering and circling round him. It was a
pretty sight to watch them all together, child and pony half hidden
beneath their