Bush Studies by Barbara Baynton Page B

bridgeless nose. A wisp of dried grass hung from the wide mouth.
    â€œSis wants er ride in thet ther cock ’orse yer in,” said the mouth, ejecting the grass with considerable force in his direction.
    â€œSis” had worked her head in by this. She was fair, with nondescript hair and eyes, and she was “chawrin’”·
    â€œWer’s ther cock ’orse, Jinny?” she asked, for the chair was not rocking.
    â€œRidey it an’ let ’er see it; an’ undo this,” commanded Jinny.
    â€œCome round to the front,” said the minister mildly, and pointing to the opening opposite the door.
    They came in and walked up to him, with hoods hanging by the strings down their backs.
    â€œHave you come alone?”
    â€œThe ether uns er comin’. Me an’ Sis giv’ ’em ther slip; we didn’ wanter ’ump ther dash kid.”
    â€œHow far have you walked?”
    â€œYer parst our place yesserday mornin’. Didn’ yer see me an’ ther billy? Gosh, we nigh bust oursels at ther way yer legs stuck out. Fust I thort yer wus ole Keogh. Yer rides jes’ like er Chinymun.” The dark one did all the talking.
    â€œOur Sis wants er ride in this,” she continued. She gave the chair a lurch that sent the parson’s feet in the air. To avoid the threatened repetition he gripped both sides and planted his feet firmly on the boards.
    The younger one poked a stem of dried grass from her mouth through the mesh of the veil in a line with his left ear. Thoroughly routed, he sprang up, and the elder child leapt in.
    â€œâ€™Ere they cum, Jinny,” warned Sis.
    Jinny peeped through the awning. “So they is. You gammon ter them we ain’t cum, w’en they arsts yer,” she said to the parson, “an’ we’ll sneak roun’ ther back. Eh, Sis?”
    Mammy and Daddy—commonly called “Jyne” and “Alick” even by their offspring—came in with four children, all younger than Jinny and Sis. Jyne carried the youngest straddled across her hip.
    The most pronounced feature of Jyne’s face was her mouth, and it seemed proud of its teeth, especially of the top row. Without any apparent effort, the last tooth there was always visible. She was a great power in the bush, being styled by the folk themselves “Rabbit Ketcher”, which, translated, means midwife. And the airs Jyne gave herself were justifiable, for she was the only “Rabbit Ketcher” this side of the township. To bring a qualified midwife from civilization would have represented a crippling expenditure to these cockies. Jyne’s moderate fees were usually four-legged.
    â€œD’y ter yous,” said Alick, blinking his bungy eyes, and smiling good-naturedly at the parson and at the grazier and his wife. He sat down without removing his hat. Jyne’s teeth saluted them but without any good nature. Jinny and Sis sneaked in behind their mother.
    â€œYou young tinkers,” cried Jyne, “tyke this chile this minute.” Her voice, despite the size of her mouth, came through her nose. She put the baby on the floor, and, taking off her hood, mopped her face with the inside of her print dress.
    â€œWe wus lookin’ fer you an’ Alick,” said Jinny to her mother, and winking at the parson.
    â€œYes, you wus—with ther ’ook,” answered Jyne.
    Without further introduction she slewed her head to one side, shut one eye knowingly, and said to the staring minister, “Ther ain’t a wink about Jinny.”
    The unblinking daughter instantly offered an illustration of her wakefulness. “Yer orter seen me an’ gran’dad th’ ether mornin’. ’E wus milkin’ ther nannies, an’ ther billy you seen ’e wus jes close agen ’im. I sneaks up to ther billy an’ gives ’im er jab. Lawr ter see ’im rush et ole Alex an’ bunt ’im!