With a swoop Cheon was on it, and the Dandy, trying to regain it, said,
"Here, hold hard! I've to present it to the missus with a bow and the
compliments of Mine Host." But Cheon would not part with it, and so the
missus had the bow and the compliments, and Cheon the ham.
Lovingly he patted it and asked us if there ever was such a ham? or ever
such a wonderful man as Mine Host? or ever such a fortunate woman as the
missus? Had any other woman such a ham or such a friend in need? And
bubbling over with affection for the whole world, he sent Jackeroo off
for mistletoe, and presently the ham, all brave in Christmas finery, was
hanging like a gay wedding-bell in the kitchen doorway. Then the kitchen
had to be decorated, also in mistletoe, to make a fitting setting for the
ham, and after that the fiat went forth. No one need expect either eggs
or cream before "Clisymus" - excepting, of course, the sick Mac - he must
be kept in condition to do justice to our "Clisymus" fare.
What a week it was - all festivities, and meagre fare, and whirring
egg-beaters, and thunderstorms, and downpours, and water-melon dividends,
and daily visits to the vegetable patch; where Happy Dick was assured,
during a flying visit, that we were sure of seven varieties of vegetables
for "Clisymus."
But alas for human certainty! Even then swarms of grasshoppers were
speeding towards us, and by sundown were with us.
In vain Cheon and the staff, the rejected, Bett-Bett every shadow and the
missus, danced war-dances in the vegetable patch, and chivied and chased,
and flew all ways at once; the grasshoppers had found green stuff exactly
to their liking, and coming in clouds, settled, and feasted, and flew
upwards, and settled back, and feasted, and swept on, leaving poor
Cheon's heart as barren of hope as the garden was of vegetables. Nothing
remained but pumpkins, sweet potatoes, and Cheon's tardy watermelons, and
the sight of the glaring blotches of pumpkins filled Cheon with fury.
"Pumpee-kin for Clisymus!" he raved, kicking furiously at the hideous
wens. Not if he knew it! and going to some stores left in our care by
the Line Party, he openly stole several tins of preserved vegetables.
"Must have vegetable longa Clisymus," he said, feeling his theft amply
justified by circumstances, but salved his conscience by sending a gift
of eggs to the Line Party as a donation towards its "Clisymus."
Then finding every one sympathetic, he broached a delicate subject. By
some freak of chance, he said, the missus was the only person who had
succeeded in growing good melons this year, and taking her to the melon
beds, which the grasshoppers had also passed by, he looked longingly at
three great fruits that lay like mossy green boulders among the rich
foliage. "Just chance," he reiterated, and surely the missus would see
that chance also favoured our "Clisymus." "A Clisymus without dessert
would be no Clisymus at all," he continued, pressing each fruit in turn
between loving hands until it squeaked in response. "Him close up ripe,
missus. Him sing out!" he said, translating the squeak.
But the missus appeared strangely inattentive, and in desperation Cheon
humbled himself and apologised handsomely for former scoffings. Not
chance, he said, but genius! Never was there white woman like the
missus! "Him savey all about," he assured the Maluka. "Him plenty savey
gardin." Further, she was a woman in a thousand! A woman all China would
bow down to! Worth ninety-one-hundred pounds in any Chinese matrimonial
market. "A valuable asset," the Maluka murmured.
It was impossible to stand against such flattery. Billy Muck was hastily
consulted, and out of his generous heart voted two of the mossy boulders
to the white folk, keeping only one for "black fellow all about." "Poor
old Billy!" He was to pay dearly for his leaning to the white folk.
Nothing was amiss now but Dan's non-appearance; and the egg-beater
whirring merrily on, by Christmas Eve, the Dandy and Jack, coming in with
wild duck for breakfast and the Vealer, found the kitchen full of
triumphs and Cheon wrestling with an immense pudding. "Four dozen egg
sit down," he chuckled, beating at the mixture. "One bottle port wine,
almond, raisin, all about, more better'n Pine Creek all right "; and the
homestead taking a turn at the beating "for luck," assured him that it
"knocked spots off Pine Creek."
"Must have money longa poodin'!" Cheon added, and our wealth lying also
in a cheque book, it was not until after a careful hunt that two
threepenny bits were produced, when one, with a hole in it, went in "for
luck," and the other followed as an omen for wealth.
The threepenny bits safely in, it took the united efforts of the
homestead to get the pudding into a cloth and thence into a boiler, while
Cheon explained that it would have been larger if only we had had a
larger boiler to hold it. As it was, it had to be boiled out in the
open, away from the buildings, where Cheon had constructed an ingenious
trench to protect the fire from rain and wind.
Four dozen eggs in a pudding necessitates an all-night boiling, and
because of this we offered to share "watches" with Cheon, but were routed
in a body. "We were better in bed," he said. What would happen to his
dinner if any one's appetite failed for want of rest? There were too few
of us as it was, and, besides, he would have to stay up all night in any
case, for the mince pies were yet to be made, in addition to brownie and
another plum-pudding for the "boys," to say nothing of the hop-beer,
which if made too soon would turn with the thunder and if made too late
would not "jump up" in time.
