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Updated: June 14, 2025
"Only somehow, it don't seem to fit into Billabong, Mr. Jim!" "So big as that! I say, Murty!" "Yerra, there's room enough for it," grinned the Irishman. "Only, motors and Billabong don't go hand in hand we've always stuck to horses, haven't we, Mr. Jim?" "We'll do that still," Jim said. "But it will be useful, all the same, Murty." He laughed at the stockman's lugubrious face.
O'Toole!" She filled his cup and handed it to him with a triumphant air. "Yerra, I misremember doin' any such thing," said Murty, slightly confused. "'Tis the way I was most likely goin' afther a sick bullock, or it might be 'possum shootin'." He raised his cup and took a deep draught; then, with a wry face, gazed at its contents. "I dunno is this a new brand of tea you're afther usin', now?
Nor me rheumatic knee ain't givin' tongue, as Master Jim would say." "Yerra, that's all to the good," said the stockman, much cheered. "I'll not look at the ould sky anny longer leastways, not till I have that cup of tea ye were speakin' about." "Come in then," said Mrs. Brown, leading the way into the kitchen a huge place so glittering with cleanliness and polish that it almost hurt the eye.
Billy, however, had one refuge denied to most of his white brothers. He hardly ever spoke; and if some reply was absolutely forced upon him, he merely murmured "Plenty!" in a vague way, which, as Wally said, left you guessing as to his meaning. "Yerra, lave off badgerin' the boy," said Murty at last, brushing aside Dave Boone and Mick Shanahan, and the other Billabong enthusiasts.
"I don't think anything yet," he said. "I don't know enough. Wait until I've learned a bit more if you're not sick of teaching such an idiot." "Yerra, ye're no ijit," said Murty under his breath. Education developed as the weeks went on.
The blitherin' yerra, glory be, there's Miss Norah!" The change from indignation to relief was comical.
Twomey responded with a long and jubilant crow of laughter. "Yerra, gerr'l alive !" she corrected herself quickly. "My lady alive, I should say sure a little thing like me'd tell lies as fast as a hen'd pick peas!" The modesty, as well as the accuracy, of this statement silenced Miss Coppinger for a moment. "Then you ought to be ashamed of yourself!" she resumed with much severity.
"Only I'd like to think Miss Norah and Miss Tommy got some of it, and not just them patients, gethered up from goodness knows where." "Yerra, Miss Norah wouldn't want to know their addresses before she'd feed 'em," said the bewildered Murty. But there came a suspicious smell from the kitchen, as of something burning, and Mrs.
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