Читать книгу The Tale of Timber Town - Alfred A. Grace - Страница 9

The scarecrows had risen respectfully to their feet, when suddenly the humour of the situation struck them, and they laughed in unison; and Amiria, shaking with merriment, collapsed upon the sofa, and hid her mirth in its cushions.

“Never mind,” said the skipper, “it’s not the clo’es that make the man. Thank God for that, Scarlett. Clo’es can’t make a man a bigger rogue than he is.”

“Thank God for this.” Scarlett tapped his waist. “I’ve got here what will rig you out to look less like a Guy Fawkes. You had your money in your cabin when the ship struck; mine is in my belt.”

“I wondered, when I pulled you ashore,” said the Maori girl, “what it was you had round your waist.”

Scarlett looked intently at the girl on the sofa.

“Do you mean you are the girl that saved me? You have metamorphosed yourself. Do you dress for a new character every day? Does she make a practice of this sort of thing, Miss Summerhayes—one day, a girl in the pa; the next, a young lady of Timber Town?”

“Amiria is two people in one,” replied Rose, “and I have not found out which of them I like most, and I have known them both for ten years.”

“Most interesting,” said Captain Sartoris, shambling forward in his marvellous garb, and taking hold of the Maori girl’s hand. “The privilege of a man old enough to be your father, my dear. I was glad to meet you on the beach—no one could ha’ been gladder—but I’m proud to meet you in the house of my old friend, Cap’n Summerhayes, and in the company of this young lady.” There could be no doubt that the over-proof spirit was going to the skipper’s head. “But how did you get here, my dear?”

“I rode,” replied Amiria, rising from the sofa. “My horse is on the drive. Come and see him.”

She led the way through the French-window, and linked arms with Rose, whilst the two strange figures followed like a couple of characters in a comic opera.

On the drive stood the Pilot, who held Amiria’s big bay horse as if it were some wild animal that might bite. He had passed round the creature’s neck a piece of tarred rope, which he was making fast to the tethering-post, while he exclaimed, “Whoa, my beauty. Stand still, stand still. Who’s going to hurt you?”

The Maori girl, holding her skirt in one hand, tripped merrily forward and took the rope from the old seaman’s grasp.

“Really, Captain,” she said, laughing, “why didn’t you tie his legs together, and then lash him to the post? There, there, Robin.” She patted the horse’s neck. “You don’t care about eating pilots, or salt fish, do you, Robin?”

“We’ll turn him into the paddock up the hill,” said Rose. “Dinner’s ready, and I’m sure the horse is not more hungry than some of us.”

“None more so than Mr. Scarlett an’ myself,” said Sartoris, “—— we’ve not had a sit-down meal since we were wrecked.”