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Eliza, Lady Gaverick, was highly pleased, though she would not for the world have let her niece by marriage know it. Being Scotch herself she approved of the Scotch bridegroom, and began now to think seriously of the alteration she subsequently made in her will. It was a four days' passage to Leuraville the port at which the McKeith's were to be dropped.
'It ain't us GENUINE Australians that insults you.... Takes a mongrel Scotchy for that.... Say, Ladyship, just you ask your husband what a sort of an insult he's got ready for YOU up at his Bachelor's Quarters at Moongarr. The words had not left his mouth when McKeith's driving whip whizzed in the air and raised blood on the speaker's cheek.
His moustache and beard were rather deeper yellow, the beard short, well-shaped the cut of Colin McKeith's beard was almost his only vanity there was one other, the 'millionare strut' in town and he had the masculine habit of stroking and clasping his beard with his large open-fingered hand spatulate tips to his digits, the practical hand fairly well kept, though brown and hairy.
He was devoted to his master, but he looked upon McKeith's marriage as a pernicious investment. His republican upbringing could not stomach the 'Ladyship, and he persisted in calling Lady Bridget Mrs McKeith. He considered her flighty and extravagant in her ideas, and was always divided between unwilling fascination and grumpy disapproval.
Maule showed tact in tacitly assuming the unexpected necessity for McKeith's abrupt departure also that he had already bidden good-bye to his wife. Lady Bridget made no comment upon her husband's scant courtesy to his guest when she rejoined Maule after an hour or two spent in housewifely business.
Bridget was bushwoman enough to comprehend the crippling effect upon McKeith's resources of the calamity, had she allowed her mind to dwell upon that aspect of affairs. But her mind was incapable just now of dealing with practical issues. She felt utterly weak, utterly lonely.
She ran her eye anxiously over the badly-typed slips, which, with their marginal corrections and smart, allusive jargon of a world entirely removed from Colin McKeith's experience, might easily have misled him into the belief that he was reading literary 'copy. Of course he knew that Joan Gildea wrote novels as well as journalistic stuff. He read her thoughts. 'You needn't worry.
Lady Bridget had stopped suddenly in her talk with Colin, and was listening, her eyes glowering at her companion. 'Why didn't kindness do? she asked sharply. 'Yes; Mr McKeith, tell us why the early pioneers abandoned the gentle method, said the Governor. McKeith's face changed: it became dark and a dangerous fire blazed in his blue eyes.
'Well, I reckon it's best not to keep them on the head-station against the Boss's orders, persisted Ninnis. Lady Bridget set her little white teeth. 'Naturally, Mr McKeith's orders don't apply to ME as I had to tell Mrs Hensor. 'Mrs Hensor knows the Boss better than most people, said Ninnis, at which Lady Bridget flashed out. 'We need not discuss that question, Mr Ninnis.
I'm to have my Miners' Right all properly filled up to-morrow, and shall make tracks back to the gully at once, so as to leave no chance of the claim being jumped. I've named it "McKeith's Find" so your name won't be forgotten.
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