Altogether The Morning Passed Quickly And Merrily, Any Time Cheon Left Us
Being Spent In Making Our Personal Appearance Worthy Of The Feast.
Scissors and hand-glasses were borrowed, and hair cut, and chins shaved,
until we feared our Christmas guests would look like convicts.
Then the
Dandy producing blacking brushes, boots that had never seen blacking
before, shone like ebony. After that a mighty washing of hands took
place, to remove the blacking stain; and then the Quarters settled down
to a general "titivation," Tam "cleaning his nails for Christmas," amid
great applause.
By eleven o'clock the Dandy was immaculate, the guests satisfied that
they "weren't too dusty," while the Maluka, in spotless white relieved
with a silk cummerbund and tie, bid fair to outdo the Dandy. Even the
Quiet Stockman had succeeded in making a soft white shirt "look as though
it had been ironed once." And then every lubra being radiant with soap,
new dresses, and ribbons, the missus, determined not be to outdone in the
matter of Christmas finery, burrowed into trunks and boxes, and
appeared in cream washing silk, lace fichu, ribbons, rings, and
frivolities - finery, by the way, packed down south for that "commodious
station home."
Cheon was enraptured with the appearance of his company, and worked, and
slaved, and chuckled in the kitchen as only Cheon could, until at last
the critical moment had arrived. Dinner was ready, but an unforeseen
difficulty had presented itself. How was it to be announced, Cheon
queried, having called the missus to the kitchen for a hasty
consultation, for was it wise to puff up the Quarters with a chanted
summons?
A compromise being decided on as the only possible course, after the
booming teamster's bell had summoned the Quarters, Cheon, all in white
himself, bustled across to the verandah to call the gentry to the dinner
by word of mouth: - "Dinner! Boss! Missus!" he sang - careful to specify
his gentry, for not even reflected glory was to be shed over the
Quarters. Then, moving in and out among the greenery as he put finishing
touches to the table here and there, he glided into the wonders of his
Christmas menu: "Soo-oup! Chuckie! Ha-am! Roooast Veal-er!" he chanted.
"Cauli-flower! Pee-es! Bee-ens! Toe-ma-toes!" (with a regretful "tinned"
in parenthesis) - "Shweet Poo-tay-toes! Bread Sau-ce!" On and on through
mince pies, sweets, cakes, and fruits, went the monotonous chant, the
Maluka and the missus standing gravely at attention, until a triumphant
paeon of "Plum-m-m Poo-dinn!" soared upwards as Cheon waddled off through
the decorated verandah extension for his soup tureen.
But a sudden, unaccountable shyness had come over the Quarters, and as
Cheon trundled away, a hurried argument reached our ears of "Go on! You
go first!" "No, you. Here! none of that"; and then, after a short
subdued scuffle, the Dandy, looking slightly dishevelled, came through
the doorway with just the suspicion of assistance from within; and the
ice being thus broken the rest of the company came forward in a body and
slipped into whichever seat came handiest.
As all of us, with the exception of the Dandy, were Scotch, four of us
being Macs, the Maluka chose our Christmas grace from Bobby Burns; and
quietly and reverently our Scotch hearts listened to those homely words:
"Some ha'e meat, and canna eat, And some wad eat that want it; But we ha'e
meat, and we can eat, And so the Lord be thankit."
Then came Cheon's turn, and gradually and cleverly his triumphs were
displayed.
To begin with, we were served to clear soup - "just to tickle your
palates," the Maluka announced, as Cheon in a hoarse whisper instructed
him to serve "little-fellow-helps" anxious that none of the keenness
should be taken from our appetites. All served, the tureen was whisked
away to ensure against further inroads, and then Cheon trundled round the
table, removing the soup plates, inquiring of each guest in turn if he
found the soup to his liking, and informing all that lubras were on guard
in the kitchen, lest the station cats should so far forget themselves as
to take an unlawful interest in our dinner.
The soup finished with, Cheon disappeared into the kitchen regions, to
reappear almost immediately at the head of a procession of lubras, each
of whom carried a piece de resistance to the feast: Jimmy's Nellie
leading with the six pullets on one great dish, while Bett-Bett brought
up the rear with the bread sauce. On through a vista of boughs and
mistletoe came the triumphs - how glad we were the way had been made more
worthy of their progress - the lubras, of course, were with them, but we
had eyes only for the triumphs: Those pullets all a-row with plump brown
breasts bursting with impatience to reveal the snowy flesh within;
marching behind them that great sizzling "haunch" of veal, taxing Rosy's
strength to the utmost; then Mine Host's crisply crumbed ham trudging
along, and filling Bertie's Nellie with delight, with its tightly bunched
little wreath of mistletoe usurping the place of the orthodox paper
frill; behind again vegetable dishes two abreast, borne by the lesser
lights of the staff (lids off, of course: none of our glory was to be
hidden under covers); tailing along with the rejected and gravy boats
came laden soup-plates to eke out the supply of vegetable dishes; and,
last of all, that creamy delight of bread sauce, borne sedately and
demurely by Bett-Bett.
As the triumphs ranged themselves into a semi-circle at the head of the
table, our first impulse was to cheer, but obeying a second impulse we
did something infinitely better, for, as Cheon relieved his grinning
waitresses, we assured him collectively, and individually, and repeatedly
that never had any one seen anything in Pine Creek so glorious as even
the dimmest shadow of this feast; and as we reiterated our assurance, I
doubt if any man in all the British Empire was prouder or more justified
in his pride than our Cheon.
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