“Yes—you never saw the country looking like this before,” said John Weston sadly.
“No, indeed. It comes home to you with a sort of a bang,” Jo agreed. “Poor old Dad!” She put her hand on his for a brief moment.
“Wait until you see the stock,” he said sadly. “That’s what hurts: to ride out among them day after day, watching them getting poorer and poorer, and to feel you can’t do anything to help them. I’m almost ashamed to go out now—they seem to look at me as if they expected me to help. Of course, most of them have gone—the cattle, I mean. Some I sold, the rest have gone down to Gippsland. Holmes says they’re doing well enough there.”
“What about the garden, Dad?” Jean asked.
“Oh, we’ve still a garden, thank goodness—you see, the windmill pumps the water up from the spring, and it’s one of those obliging servants that works all the twenty-four hours and never asks for pay. So we can still keep the vegetables and your mother’s garden going. But we’ll have to do it ourselves: I’ve been compelled to let the Chinaman go. Sorry, too: he had the place in splendid order.”
“We’ll work,” said Jo cheerfully. “I’m very handy with a hoe.” She grinned across her father at Jean. “‘Member our old gardens, Jean?”
“Rather!” said Jean. “We had awful bursts of industry, and made them lovely, and planted all sorts of seeds, and then some evil influence came along——”
“Generally Dad, with a job among the cattle,” remarked Jo.
“Why, you monkey——!” protested Mr. Weston.
“Just so,” Jean went on. “And so we would forget them, and the weeds would grow faster than the seeds, and presently there’d be nothing left of our poor gardens, ’cause Hop Sing would come along and dig them all up. Then we’d make another start!”
“Well, you’d better not grow vegetables on those principles,” said Mr. Weston, laughing, “or it will be a bad look-out for our dinners. Not that I’m going to let you do much work of that kind. I suppose I’ll be glad enough of some help with weeding now and then—my back isn’t as young as it was—but you’ll have plenty to do without that.” He sighed heavily. “That’s the worst of it all—so much is going to fall on your mother and you two; and I can’t help it. If only I could keep old Sarah—and it’s going to take a team of bullocks to shift her! She wants to stay without pay, bless her—says she’s got enough saved up for her old age. But of course we can’t allow that.”