The Far Country Read Online Free Page B

door, rather depressed.
    The men came back to the homestead for dinner; she heard Tim and Mario washing at the basin under the tank-stand in the yard, and she began to dish up. They came in presently with Jack and sat down at the table; she carved half a pound of meat for each of them and heaped the plates high with vegetables; she gave Jack rather less and herself much less. A suet jam roll followed the meat, and cups of tea. Relaxed and smoking at the end of the meal, Tim Archer said,
    “Would you be using the utility Saturday evening, Mr. Dorman? There’s the Red Cross dance.”
    “I dunno.” He turned to Jane. “Want to go to the dance on Saturday?”
    It was a suggestion that had not been made to her for seven or eight years and it came strangely from Jack now, but everything was strange on this day of the wool cheque. She laughed shortly. “I don’t want to go to any dance,” she said. “My dancing days are done, but let the boys go if they want to.”
    “You going, Mario?”
    The dark, curly-haired young man looked up with laughing eyes. “Si, Mr. Dorman.”
    “Go on,” his boss grumbled. “Talk English, like a Christian. You can if you want to.”
    The young man grinned more broadly. “Yes,” he said. “I like to go ver’ much. I like dance much.”
    “I bet you do….” He turned to Tim. “If you go you’ve got to look after him,” he said. “Don’t let him get in any trouble, or get girls in any trouble, either.” There was some prejudice against the New Australians in the district, well founded in part, and there had been a row over Mario once before at the first dance that he attended and before he was accustomed to the social climate of Australia.
    “I’ll keep an eye on him, Mr. Dorman.”
    “All right, you can take the Chev.” He paused. “Did you get the tickets?”
    “Not yet. Thought I’d better wait and see about the ute.”
    “I’ll be going down to Banbury after dinner, in about an hour. I’ll get them if you give me the money.”
    “Thanks, Mr. Dorman.” Tim hesitated. “Would you be going by the post office?”
    “I could.”
    “Would you look in and tell Elsie Peters I’ll be coming to the dance with Mario?”
    Jack nodded. “I’ll tell her.”
    Presently they got up from the table, Tim to unload the utility, Jack Dorman to go into his office, and Mario to help Jane to clear the table and wash up. A quarter of an hour later Jack Dorman, going out on the veranda, saw Mario and Tim rolling the drum of Diesel oil down from the truck on timbers to the ground. He waited till the drum was on the ground, and then said, “Hey, Mario—come over here a minute.” They crossed to the paddock rail and stood together there in the warm sunlight.
    “Say, Mario,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about that girl you’ve got, back in Italy. You still want to get her out here to Australia?”
    “Yes, Mr. Dorman. I wanta ver’ much. I love Lucia. We marry when she come here.”
    “That’s her name, is it? Lucia?”
    “Yes. Lucia Tereno she is called.”
    “Lucia Tereno. She lives in this town that you come from, Chieti?”
    “She is from Orvieto, close to Chieti, signore.”
    “Are you saving up to get her out here?”
    “Si, signore.”
    “How much does the ticket cost?”
    “Fifty-eight pounds.”
    “How much have you got saved towards it?”
    “Twenty-seven pounds. I send—send money to mio padre.”
    “Send money to your father, do you?”
    “Yes, Mr. Dorman. E vecchio.”
    “What’s that?”
    “He—old man. Madre old also.”
    The grazier stood in silence for a minute, thinking this over. Atlast he said, “Look, Mario. I was thinking of building a bit of a house for you and Lucia, ’n paying for her ticket. You could spend your twenty-seven quid on furniture for it, ’n make the rest in the evenings. If I do that, will you stay with me two years after your time’s up, ’n not go off to someone else for better money?”
    Only about half of that