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Now that we required his presence Mr Pornsch was not in evidence, and neither was anything to be heard of the red-headed footballer's reappearance, though he had been absent four weeks, and this brought us towards the end of June.
Mr Pornsch seemed really concerned, and said perhaps she needed to be diverted, and that he would see about a further change, which might prove beneficial.
Mr Pornsch was very nice to me, an' I asked him to tea, an' to come down for some of them little things belongin' to his niece. He's very cut up about her." "Yes, about as cut up about her as Uncle Jake would be over me." "Now, Dawn, how do you know?" severely inquired the old dame.
Miss Flipp apparently had her window open too, for despite the conversation in her room being in subdued tones, I heard it where I lay. It contained startling disclosures anent these two persons' relations and characters, and when Mr Pornsch went his way with the uneven footsteps of the overfed and of accumulating years, he left me in a painful state of perturbation. What course should I pursue?
Needless to say, Mr Pornsch did not claim his property, and this souvenir was the last we heard of him.
There was a silly little flaxen-haired woman who also supported the Opposition to spite her husband, a Henderson man, and the prototype of Mr Pornsch, because, being over-grogful, he had made tracks for the polling-booth alone, leaving his wife to go as best she could.
Somewhat disconcerted though not the least abashed, Mr Pornsch persevered by asking if she ever went to Sydney, and stated the pleasure it would be to him to provide her with tickets for any of the plays; but even this could not overcome her unconquerable horror of the various intemperances suggested by his person, so he had to retreat. Dawn's grandmother remonstrated with her afterwards.
Ah, the regret that consumed me that I had not risked the unpopularity of interference and sought her confidence. I might have been able to have saved her from such an end! I kept my knowledge to myself. It would scarcely have hurt Mr Pornsch. Under the British Constitution property is far more sacred than women.
The oranges will soon be ripe, that's good luck: I can eat eighty a-day easy. Here comes old Bolliver!" A huge figure as described by Dawn came out of the house in company with Miss Flipp, and I recognised Mr Pornsch, the heavy swell who had travelled in the 'bus with me on the day of my first arrival in Noonoon.
Next item on the programme was Mr Pornsch, whom grandma invited to remain to midday dinner, and the old lady being sufficiently human to denounce a swell far more fiercely behind his back than to his face, in consideration of this one's presence, once more entrusted us to sugar our own puddings, regardless of consequences. After luncheon she interviewed him about his niece's health.
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