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Turner, Ethel Sybil, 1872-1958

"Seven Little Australians"


Nellie dangled all her long curls in his face to engage his
attention, but he clutched them viciously and pulled till the tears
came into her eyes. Esther and Meg sang lullabies till their tongues
ached, Judy tried walking him up and down the narrow space, but he
stiffened himself in her arms, and she was not strong enough to hold
him. Finally he dropped off into an exhausted sleep, drawing deep,
sobbing breaths and little hiccoughs of sorrow.
Then Bunty was discovered asleep on the floor with his head under a seat,
and had to be lifted into an easier position; and Baby, bolt upright
in a corner, was nodding like a little pink-and-white daisy the sun has
been too much for.
One by one the long hours dragged away; farther and farther through
the silent, sleeping country flew the red-eyed train, swerving round
zigzag curves, slackening up steeper places, flashing across the
endless stretching plains.
The blackness grew grey and paler grey, and miles and miles of
monotonous gum saplings lay between the train and sky. Up burst
the sun, and the world grew soft and rosy like a baby waked from
sleep. Then the grey gathered again, the pink, quivering lights
faded out, and the rain came down--torrents of it, beating against
the shaking window-glass, whirled wildly ahead by a rough morning
wind, flying down from the mountains.


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