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On the other side of the verandah above Uncle Jake stretched a passion vine, where a thick row of belated fruit hung like pretty pale-green eggs, and evil entering Andrew's mind, he remarked to me "Wouldn't it be just bosker if one of them fell on his old nut," and going out he returned with a pair of orange clippers. "Where's Carry got to?" asked grandma.
She tossed the last piece of cake to an inquisitive kookaburra who had been watching the meal optimistically, with bright eyes and nodding head. It was a triumph, this cake in several ways. The stationmaster at Cook's Wall had built his "bosker hotel" at last, and had made it a store at which one could buy fruit, jam, sugar and various luxuries.
Some reckon she's better-lookin' than Dawn, and her mother put it around that Eweword would make a brilliant match for her, and that shooed him off at once. I reckon if I was a girl and wanted to ketch a man I'd hold me mag about it, as I know two or three now has been turned off the same way." "Perhaps Dora Cowper didn't lose much." "Well, he has a bosker farm, you see.
But the doctor's understanding didn't seem to go in for small satirical detail, he conversed on a more wholesale fashion, rattling on for a good half-hour to a patient for whom quietude was necessary, lest she should "peg out." "Ain't he a bosker?" enthusiastically commented Andrew, coming in to see what I had thought of this doctor, who was the idol of Noonoon. "Has he a large practice?"
"You mean they should have protected Miss Flipp," said Dawn, "and when a man with grey hairs carries on like this the crime is twice as deadly. There was nothing about grey hairs when you used a lead comb and got yourself up to kill. I thought you didn't want to make an especial feature of them, and that's why I'm dyeing them this beautiful treacley black. They'll look bosker when I'm done."
Giving out that he felt very unwell after the round of gaieties, he basely deserted, got into the most uncomfortable train in the world and, two days later, threw himself on the hospitality of the landlord of the bosker hotel at Cook's Wall, entirely omitting to let Marcella know that he was coming. At Klondyke and Loose End they were great on celebrations.
"But it isn't much use starting out to-night." The stationmaster looked proprietorially towards the station and the hotel site. There seemed room for tickets, and for the man who sold them if he were not a very large man. There was not much hope for visitors. "I'm running up a bosker hotel soon's I can get a bit of weather-boarding and a few nails along," he said hopefully.
Why, ain't he a bosker!" he enthusiastically exclaimed, as the hideously unprepossessing little mongrel stood on his hind legs and yelped in excited begging. "Hullo, Andrew! Don't bust! Who's that you had with you? Rather an old piece!" "Yes," said Andrew. "Her hair is a little white, but she ain't sour and stuck up." "A chance for you to hang your hat up, Jake," said Larry. "No, thanks!
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