My Brilliant Career

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Authors: Miles Franklin
Tags: Fiction, Literary
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    I hadn’t time to say more than promise to send his remembrances to my father, for Mr. Hawden, saying we would be in the dark, had whipped his horses and was bowling off at a great pace, in less than two minutes covering a rise which put Gool-Gool out of sight. It was raining a little, so I held over us the big umbrella, which Grannie had sent, while we discussed the weather, to the effect that rain was badly needed and was a great novelty nowadays, and it was to be hoped it would continue. There had been but little, but the soil here away was of that rich, loamy description which little water turns to mud. It clogged the wheels and loaded the break blocks; and the nearside horse had a nasty way of throwing his front feet so that hedeposited soft red lumps of mud in our laps at every step. But despite these trifling drawbacks, it was delightful to be drawn without effort by a pair of fat horses in splendid harness. It was a great contrast to our poor, skinny old horse at home, crawling along in much-broken harness, clumsily and much mended with string and bits of hide.
    Mr. Hawden was not at all averse to talking. After emptying our tongues of the weather, there was silence for some time, which he broke with, “So you are Mrs. Bossier’s granddaughter, are you?”
    â€œNot remembering my birth, I can’t swear; but I believe myself to be that same, as sure as eggs is eggs,” I replied.
    He laughed. “Very good imitation of the coach driver. But Mrs. Bossier’s granddaughter! Well, I should smile!”
    â€œWhat at?”
    â€œYour being Mrs. Bossier’s granddaughter.”
    â€œI fear, Mr. Hawden, there is a suspicion reverse of complimentary in your remark.”
    â€œWell, I should smile! Would you like to have my opinion of you?”
    â€œNothing would please me more. I would value your opinion above all things, and I’m sure—I feel certain—that you have formed a true estimate of me.”
    At any other time his conceit would have brought upon himself a fine snubbing, but today I was in high feather, and accordingly very pleasant, and resolved to amuse myself by drawing him out.
    â€œWell, you are not a bit like Mrs. Bossier or Mrs. Bell; they are both so good-looking,” he continued.
    â€œIndeed!”
    â€œI was disappointed when I saw you had no pretensions to prettiness, as there’s not a girl up these parts worth wasting a man’s affections on, and I was building great hopes on you. But I’m a great admirer of beauty,” he twaddled.
    â€œI am very sorry for you, Mr. Hawden. I’m sure it would take quite a paragon to be worthy of such affection as I’m sure yours would be,” I replied sympathetically.
    â€œNever mind. Don’t worry about it. You’re not a bad sort, and think a fellow could have great fun with you.”
    â€œI’m sure,Mr. Hawden, you do me too much honor. It quite exhilarates me to think that I meet with your approval in the smallest degree,” I replied with the utmost deference. “You are so gentlemanly and nice that I was alarmed at first lest you might despise me altogether.”
    â€œNo fear. You needn’t be afraid of me; I’m not a bad sort of fellow,” he replied with the greatest encouragement.
    By his accent and innocent style I detected he was not a colonial, so I got him to relate his history. He was an Englishman by birth, but had been to America, Spain, New Zealand, Tasmania, etc.; by his own makeout had ever been a man of note, and had played Old Harry everywhere.
    I allowed him to gabble away full tilt for an hour on this subject, unconscious that I had taken the measure of him, and was grinning broadly to myself. Then I diverted him by inquiring how long since the wire fence on our right had been put up. It bore evidence of recent erection, and had replaced an old cockatoo fence which I remembered in my childhood.
    â€œFine fence, is it

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