Part 9 (1/2)
She took my face between her hands, saying:
”Silly child, there are some faces with faultless features, which would receive nothing more than an indifferent glance while beside other faces which might have few if any pretensions to beauty. Yours is one of those last mentioned.”
”But that does not say I am not ugly.”
”No one would dream of calling you plain, let alone ugly; brilliant is the word which best describes you.”
Uncle Julius had the upper part of his ponderous figure arrayed in a frock-coat. He did not take kindly to what he termed ”those skittish sparrow-tailed affairs”. Frock-coats suited him, but I am not partial to them on every one. They look well enough on a podgy, fat, or broad man, but on a skinny one they hang with such a forlorn, dying-duck expression, that they invariably make me laugh.
Julius John Bossier, better known as J. J. Bossier, and better still as Jay-Jay--big, fat, burly, broad, a jovial bachelor of forty, too fond of all the opposite s.e.x ever to have settled his affections on one in particular--was well known, respected, and liked from Wagga Wagga to Albury, Forbes to Dandaloo, Bourke to Hay, from Tumut to Monaro, and back again to Peak Hill, as a generous man, a straight goer in business matters, and a jolly good fellow all round.
I was very proud to call him uncle.
”So this is yourself, is it!” he exclaimed, giving me a tremendous hug.
”Oh, uncle,” I expostulated, ”wipe your old kisses off! Your breath smells horribly of whisky and tobacco.”
”Gammon, that's what makes my kisses so nice!” he answered; and, after holding me at arm's-length for inspection, ”By George, you're a wonderful-looking girl! You're surely not done growing yet, though! You are such a little nipper. I could put you in my pocket with ease. You aren't a sc.r.a.p like your mother. I'll give the next shearer who pa.s.ses a s.h.i.+lling to cut that hair off. It would kill a dog in the hot weather.”
”Everard, this is my niece, Sybylla” (aunt Helen was introducing us).
”You will have to arrange yourselves--what relation you are, and how to address each other.”
The admiration expressed in his clear sharp eyes gave me a sensation different to any I had ever experienced previously.
”I suppose I'm a kind of uncle and brother in one, and as either relations.h.i.+p ent.i.tles me to a kiss, I'm going to take one,” he said in a very gallant manner.
”You may take one if you can,” I said with mischievous defiance, springing off the veranda into the flower-garden. He accepted my challenge, and, being lithe as a cat, a tremendous scamper ensued. Round and round the flower-beds we ran. Uncle Jay-Jay's beard opened in a broad smile, which ended in a loud laugh. Everard Grey's coat-tails flew in the breeze he made, and his collar was too high for athletic purposes. I laughed too, and was lost, and we returned to the veranda--Everard in triumph, and I feeling very red and uncomfortable.
Grannie had arrived upon the scene, looking the essence of brisk respectability in a black silk gown and a white lace cap. She cast on me a glance of severe disapproval, and denounced my conduct as shameful; but uncle Jay-Jay's eyes twinkled as he dexterously turned the subject.
”Gammon, mother! I bet you were often kissed when that youngster's age.
I bet my boots now that you can't count the times you did the same thing yourself. Now, confess.”
Grannie's face melted in a smile as she commenced a little anecdote, with that pathetic beginning, ”When I was young.”
Aunt Helen sent me inside lest I should catch cold, and I stationed myself immediately inside the window so that I should not miss the conversation. ”I should think your niece is very excitable,” Mr Grey was saying to aunt Helen.
”Oh, very.”
”Yes; I have never seen any but very highly strung temperaments have that transparent brilliance of expression.”
”She is very variable--one moment all joy, and the next the reverse.”
”She has a very striking face. I don't know what it is that makes it so.”
”It may be her complexion,” said aunt Helen; ”her skin is whiter than the fairest blonde, and her eyebrows and lashes very dark. Be very careful you do not say anything that would let her know you think her not nice looking. She broods over her appearance in such a morbid manner. It is a weak point with her, so be careful not to sting her sensitiveness in that respect.”
”Plain-looking! Why, I think she has one of the most fascinating faces I've seen for some time, and her eyes are simply magnificent. What colour are they?”
”The gra.s.s is not bad about Sydney. I think I will send a truck of fat wethers away next week,” said uncle Jay-Jay to grannie.