And here he spoke aloud
into the darkness the ancient and homely formula that is man's stand-by
in face of the untried, the unknown.
"If God wills.... God knows best."
Part III
Chapter I
The house stood not far from the Great Swamp. It was of weather-board,
with a galvanised iron roof, and might have been built from a child's
drawing of a house: a door in the centre, a little window on either
side, a chimney at each end. Since the ground sloped downwards, the
front part rested on piles some three feet high, and from the rutty
clay-track that would one day be a street wooden steps led up to the
door. Much as Mahony would have liked to face it with a verandah, he did
not feel justified in spending more than he could help. And Polly not
only agreed with him, but contrived to find an advantage in the plainer
style of architecture. "Your plate will be better seen, Richard, right
on the street, than hidden under a verandah." But then Polly was
overflowing with content. Had not two of the rooms fireplaces? And was
there not a wash-house, with a real copper in it, behind the detached
kitchen? Not to speak of a spare room!--To the rear of the house a high
paling-fence enclosed a good-sized yard. Mahony dreamed of a garden,
Polly of keeping hens.
There were no two happier people on Ballarat that autumn than the
Mahonys. To and fro they trudged down the hill, across the Flat, over
the bridge and up the other side; first, through a Sahara of dust, then,
when the rains began, ankle-deep in gluey red mud.
Pages:
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265