School, store, and post office were all blank-faced and silent, and no horses were tied beneath the peppercorn tree on the little patch of grass below the churchâthat patch being the meeting-place of the township. In the hushed grey and green landscape, the only brightness was in the Rectory poplars, already turning gold.
âI wonder what Charles is like,â said Harriet, as they opened the Rectory gate. Aidan, who had been thinking exactly the same thing, said nothingâmore discreet than Harriet, he realized that they were within earshot of the wide-open windows. The Rectory was a grey timber house, with steep gables decorated with what looked like white wooden frills.
Harriet intensely disliked the kind of visit where she had to sit very still and straight in a high-backed chair, and speak only when she was addressed directly. Worse still was the afternoon tea-party at which she might be suddenly called upon to recite, or sing, or play the piano. So she was greatly relieved to find that the Farmers were kind, informal people, and that the children were allowed to stay out of doors while the grown-ups talked in the sitting-room.
âLetâs go in the summer-house,â said Charles, leading the way up the sloping back garden to the little wooden shelter at the top. From here one could gaze down past the house to the township, and beyond to the creek and the encircling hills.
âWatch for spiders,â said Charles solemnly to Rose-Ann. âI think you might be sitting on one.â
Rose-Ann at once jumped up in great alarm, and Charles burst into hearty laughter. He was a plump, good-natured, cheerful boy, a born tease, and always ready to bubble over with amusement.
âRose-Ann doesnât think spiders are funny,â Aidan explained. âShe hasnât been here long enough for that. Sit down, Rose-Annâit was only a joke.â
âHavenât you any sisters I could play with?â asked Rose-Ann hopefully.
âNo sisters, or brothers either,â said Charles. âAnd I must say Iâm pleased youâve come here to live. Itâs been so dull at school lately, with only Paddy and Bill to talk to. Theyâre hopeless at cricket, too. Do you bowl or bat?â he demanded eagerly of Aidan.
âIâve not played much,â admitted Aidan.
âYouâll soon learn,â Charles assured him. âIf youâre good enough, you might be allowed to join the Barley Creek side next summer. The seasonâs nearly over now. Our last match is with Deaconâs Flat, on Saturday.â
âDo you mean you play for Barley Creek?â asked Harriet in surprise. Her knowledge of cricket was even less than Aidanâs, and she envisaged an eleven as being made up of tall, serious gentlemen with beards.
âOf course I do,â said Charles airily. âIâm one of the opening bats, usually. Joe OâBrienâs the other, when heâs home. Why donât you come and watch next Saturday?â
âWe shall, if Father will take us,â said Harriet with enthusiasm.
Charles turned again to Aidan.
âHow do you like the school? Iâve been there four years, and Iâm used to it. But I suppose it must look rather odd to you, after being at school in London.â
âItâs all right,â said Aidan. âI wish I could go to the Grammar School sooner, though.â
âWhatever for?â demanded Charles. âYouâll have to work much harder there. And you wonât be able to go fishing or exploring or hunting rabbits after school. I shot four rabbits yesterday.â
âAidan doesnât do any of those things, anyway,â explained Harriet, adding wistfully: âBut I would like to.â
âGirls make too much noise when youâre after rabbits or fish,â said Charles. âI could take you exploring, though. I know where a platypus lives, and thereâs a whole family of bush