Part 1 (1/2)

Queensland Cousins

by Eleanor Luisa Haverfield

CHAPTER I

HOME

”It has come, it has co out lustily froer heads were thrust over the veranda railings Below, on horseback, was a big, brown-haired, brown-bearded h, and exclaisters? One would think I had a faoes, to hear you”

Then another head appeared over the railings--a gentle-faced, fair-haired woman looked down

”It is the parcel froo”

”Yes, yes, father; it is the parcel froland at last, anda whole hour--the longest hour I have ever lived”

Nesta Orban, to whoed, shook back her masses of fair, fluffy hair with an impatient little toss

”Stuff, Nesta; you always say that,” exclaimed Eustace, her twin of fourteen ”You said it yesterday coh the scrub because you were tired; and the day before when ; and the day before--”

”Oh, shut up!” Nesta retorted ”You needn't quote pages froraphy like that Let's think about the parcel--Hurry up, dad, darling”

This last she called after her father, for Mr Orban had not stayed a second after his wife's explanation of the excitehter dying out of his face, and he spurred his horse into a trot round the house towards the stable

The heads all came back into the veranda, and there fell a hush of expectancy as every one listened for Mr Orban's footsteps coh the house

”La, la, la! look, Nesta Dolly downside up; Becky done it,” piped a little voice from the floor

”Oh, do be quiet, Becky Think about the parcel fro in it for you,” said Nesta

Mrs Orban had seated herself again in a loicker chair, and was busy sewing--patching a orn shi+rt with utently ”She can't be expected at two years old to realize theof a parcel from home I don't believe you do yourself, Nesta It is just a lot of nice things froland to you--only to father and me is it 'a parcel frorave as she stood by the table fingering the string of the wonderful parcel Such a lot of string there was, and so ht contain, at least the parcel looked interesting

The owner of the third head that had looked over the veranda railing to shout the neas ten-year-old Peter It always seeer than they were--perhaps because he had been the baby for so many years, till Becky caht in front of her, and staring at her ide blue eyes, ”why don't you and father live in England when you want to so much?”

Peter was fair, and very like his mother and Nesta Eustace and little Becky were the tere like their father, brown-haired and brown-eyed Peter had a delicate, sensitive face, and he was alondering about things in a queer, dreamy sort of way

”It is easier said than done,low over her sewing that the child ht to her eyes ”Father land just as well as Queensland?” asked Peter