A Comedietta
ACT I

Enter The Honourable Rufus Polyblock, Member of Upper House, and immensely rich squatter—his Overseer, Mr. Gayters (imperfectly educated).

The Hon. Rufus. Well, Gayters, how\'s everything gettin\' on? I mean the sheep, of course. Splendid season, ain\'t it? Grand lambing, tremendous heavy clip, eh? Why, you look dubersome?

Gayters. Marked 92 per cent of lambs all round. The clip\'ll be heavier than it was last year—that means money off a hundred and fifty thousand sheep, but——

Hon. Rufus. Sheep right; lambs too; shearing all to the good; why, what can be wrong? (Walks up and down.) Must be them infernal, underminding free selectors. Rot \'em! if they ain\'t worse than blackfellows or dingoes—and you can\'t shoot \'em or poison \'em legally; not yet, that is—not yet!

Gayters. You\'ve about hit it, sir. I\'d hardly the face to tell you, one of \'em\'s taken up the main camp, opposite the big water-hole—a half-section, too! [320 acres.]

Hon. Rufus. What! Our main camp! Good Gad! Why, the country\'s goin\' to destruction! The best water-hole on the creek, too. Why, I thought that had been secured. Wasn\'t Sam Appinson to take it up last Thursday?

Gayters. Yes, sir; cert\'nly, sir; but his mother went and died the day afore, and he had to go down the country. 262Didn\'t think it would matter for a week; when this young chap pops in, all on a sudden like, and collars it. It\'s turned out quite contrairy, ain\'t it, sir?

Hon. Rufus. Contrairy! It\'s ruination, that\'s what it is! It\'ll play h—l and Tommy with the sheep in the Ban Ban Paddock. What\'s to keep \'em off his pre-lease? And he can pound \'em any day he likes. He\'ll do me thousands of pounds\' worth of harm with his beggarly half-section. Have to buy him out and give him two prices—the old story.

Gayters. I hardly think he\'ll agree to that, sir! I heard him yesterday say, says he, \'I\'m a-going to settle down for good, and make a home in this wilderness; this here land is so fertile,\' says he——

Hon. Rufus. Wilderness indeed! On a flat like that! Fert\'le, fert\'le—what\'s that? Good corn land? D—n his impudence; what\'s it to him, I\'d like to know? Is he going to cultivate for a living in a dry country? Bah! I\'ve seen them kind of coves afore. I give him two years to lose everything, to his shirt! What sort of a chap is he, Gayters?

Gayters. Well, a civil-spoken young man enough, sir. Talks very nice, and seems to know himself. I should take him to be a gentleman.

Hon. Rufus. A gentleman! Bosh! How the devil can he be a gentleman and a free selector, eh? A feller that robs people of their land. He\'s next door to a cattle duffer. He\'d turn bushranger, only he ain\'t got pluck enough.

Gayters. Very true, sir; cert\'nly, sir; but he says it\'s not agin the law.

Hon. Rufus. The law! Hang the law! What\'s that got to do with it? A parcel of fellers that never owned a run or a foot of ground get into this Lower \'Ouse and makes laws to bind people that could buy \'em out over and over again. D\'ye call that honest? I call it daylight robbery; and I\'m not a-goin\' to keep laws made that way if I can find a way to drive through \'em; yes, through \'em, with a coach and four!

Gayters. Yes, sir; but what are we to do? He\'ll have his nine hundred and sixty acres of pre-lease, and our sheep can\'t be kept off it nohow.

Hon. Rufus. Put a man on to free select right agin his frontage, take up two flocks, and shepherd all round him. 263I\'ll feed him out; I\'ll make him keep to his blasted half-section. Curse him! I\'ll ruin him! Damme! I\'ll have him in gaol afore I\'ve done with him. I\'ll——
Enter Miss Dulcie Polyblock in her riding-habit, also
Miss Alice Merton (a friend).

Miss Dulcie. Why, dad, what\'s all this about? Who\'s to be hanged, drawn, and quartered, whatever that means? We used to have it in our history lesson. Oh, I want to tell you something! Whom do you think we met?

Hon. Rufus. Don\'t know, I\'m sure. Was it Lord Arthur Howard or young Goldsmith? I know they came up to Deem Deem the other day.

Miss Dulcie. Well, he was such a handsome young man, father; and so polite and gentlemanlike. Alice\'s horse shied at a hawker\'s cart, and Sultan, like an old goose, began to rear. Alice dropped her whip, so he picked it up and gave it to her with such a bow! He said he was coming to be a neighbour of ours, so perhaps it was Lord Arthur. Oh, I nearly forgot! He gave me a card, and said he hoped he might be permitted to call. Here it is.

Hon. Rufus. H\'m, ha! Likely it was his lordship, or one of them swells that I heard were coming up to learn experience at Deem Deem. Old Maclaren\'s a regular brick for hospitality! Well, I\'ll ask him over, Dulcie. He won\'t see a prettier girl anywheres, nor a better one, tho\' I say it. We must have him over to dinner on Sunday. What did you say his name was?

Miss Dulcie (reads from card). Mr. Cecil Egremont. Isn\'t it a pretty one?

Hon. Rufus. Eggermont, Eggermont, eh? Hand me over that paper there; it\'s a copy of a Application. Why, confound and smother all land-stealin\' villains, if that ain\'t the very man that\'s took up my main camp! He a gentleman! He\'s an impostor, a swindler. He\'s tryin\' to rob your poor old father. He\'s a free selector!

Both Girls (horrified). A free selector! Oh!! (Scream loudly and run out of room.)
END OF FIRST ACT
264
ACT II
Enter Mr. Cecil Egremont, dressed in blue Crimean shirt,
moleskin trousers, knee-boots, straw hat.

Egremont. And so I\'m farming in Australia. A thing I\'ve longed for all my days. Such a free, independent, pleasant life. No one to bother you; no one to interfere with you. Such a splendid large piece of land I\'ve secured too—three hundred and twenty acres, with three times as much for grazing. Grazing right, that\'s the expression—a pre-lease, ha! (Looks in book.) I believe my fortune\'s made. Who\'s this? Some neighbour probably. Good-day, sir; very glad to see you.

Gayters. It\'s more\'n I am to see you here. D\'ye know where you are?

Egremont. On the Crown Lands of Her Majesty the Queen of England in the first place, and on the farm conditionally purchased (refers to Land Regulations) by Cecil Egremont, gentleman farmer, late of Bideford, Devon.

Gayters. What\'s the good of all this rubbish? You\'re on our main camp.

Egremont. Camp? camp?—I see no traces of an encampment. In what historical period, may I ask?

Gayters. Can\'t yer see this? (Kicks bone aside.) It\'s our cattle camp. I don\'t mean a soldier\'s camp or any of that rot. It\'s been our—the Hon\'ble Rufus Polyblock\'s—Bundabah Run, this twenty year and more.

Egremont. Has this land been sold before? Then that land agent has deceived me! And yet he looked respectable. I paid him eighty pounds deposit. Have his receipt.

Gayters. I don\'t mean sold exactly—not but that Mr. Polyblock would have bought it fast enough if Government had let him. But we had a lease of it and always had stock running on it.

Egremont. Oh, a lease!—for a special object I presume, or perhaps a pastoral lease? (Consults book.) Perhaps it was a Run—Run—oh, I have it here!—page 38. But surely that gives you no legal right to hold it against the bona-fide conditional purchaser?

Gayters. Well, I expect we\'ve no legal claim if it comes 265to that. But no gentleman in this country goes to select on another gentleman\'s run. It ain\'t the thing, you know.

Egremont. Oh, \'it ain\'t the thing\'? Something like poaching or shooting without a license; but how was I to know? The law says, 25 Vict. No. 1, Section 13 (opens copy of Crown Lands Alienation Act), \'On and from the first day of January 1862——\'

Gayters. Oh, hang the law! The Act\'s all very well for them as knows no better, or as wants to take advantage-like of a squatter, but it ain\'t the square deal if you mean to act honest—what I call between man and man. Good-morning, sir.
[Exit Gayters.

Egremont (soliloquising). What an extraordinary country! When I quarrelled with my uncle, who wanted me to go into the Church, and came out to Australia to carve out a fortune in a new world where land was plentiful and caste unknown, I never expected to meet with class distinctions. Instead of being able to live my own life in peace, I am met with obstacles at every turn. I might as well have remained in North Devon, for all I can see. Well! courage—I\'ll go and finish my work, and cut this splendid log into lengths for fencing slabs. (Begins to chop log.) Why, here comes the young lady whose horse was frightened yesterday. How handsome she is, and such a figure too! What a soft voice she had. I had no idea the girls out here were anything like this! (Goes on chopping; his dogs rush out.) Down, Ponto! Down, Clumber! Come to heel! (Throws down axe and calls off dogs.) Pray don\'t be frightened—a—I haven\'t the pleasure of knowing your name—I hope you have quite recovered yesterday\'s accident.

Miss Dulcie P. I am not in the least frightened, thank you. What beautiful dogs! I am sure they are too well-bred to hurt a lady. Oh, my name! (slight confusion)—my name is Dulcie Polyblock. I feel much obliged by your kindness last evening.

Egremont. (Aside—Polyblock! Polyblock! Why, that\'s the name of the owner of the station, the overseer told me. Probably a nice person. I\'ll go and explain matters to him.) (Speaks.) Really I\'m delighted to have been of the slightest service. I hope, as I am settled in this part of the world, that I may have the privilege of meeting you occasionally.

266Miss Dulcie (confused). I don\'t know—I can\'t say—just at present, but—— (Aside—How distinguished-looking he is, but what queer clothes!)

Egremont. Does your father, Mr. Polyblock (aside—Droll name, but that doesn\'t matter), live in this neighbourhood?

Miss Dulcie. Live here! Why, he owns the Run you\'re on. Our home-station, Bundabah, is about five miles off.

Egremont. Oh, indeed, what a long way! I had thought we might be near neighbours. I had intended to call and inquire if you had quite recovered from your fright.

Miss Dulcie P. I wasn\'t frightened, pray don\'t suppose that, but I might have been hurt if you had not come up. Are you going to stay here long?

Egremont (proudly). Till I make a fortune. [Dulcie (aside)—Oh!] I have resolved to turn this waste into a productive farm—a—it will be the work of years.

Miss Dulcie. I should think it would. (Aside—Waste, indeed!) It\'s the best part of Bundabah Run.

Egremont. So I was quite right to purchase it from the Crown.

Miss Dulcie. Oh no. Quite wrong. It\'s never done, except by—by low sort of people.

Egremont. Indeed! Then perhaps I\'m mistaken about the law. Just oblige me by looking at this section of the Land Act. (Hands book to her—she stoops from her horse—their heads come close together—she reads—\'Section 13, Crown lands other than town lands,\' etc.) Well, it really seems as if you had the right to do it, or anybody else, but father\'s in the Upper House, and all that. He says it\'s a perfect robbery to free-select on his Run. It\'s very confusing, don\'t you think? But I must say good-bye.

Egremont. Good-bye, Miss Polyblock. (Shakes hands warmly.) You have really comforted me very much. If you had time to explain this Act to me I really think I should get over all my difficulties; as it is, I despair.

Miss Dulcie P. (Aside—Poor fellow! It\'s very hard for him; and how white his hands are—such expressive eyes too. I oughtn\'t to have come, I know, but still—I might bring about an understanding between him and father.) Well, perhaps I might be riding this way on Saturday, near that 267water-hole where the willows are. Good-bye. Now then you naughty Sultan (canters off).

Egremont (sitting down on log). She has gone! disappeared like a beautiful dream. What a kind face it is too—anxious to be friendly, and yet, with maidenly diffidence, doubting the propriety. Polyblock! Dulcie! a sweet name. Dulce Domum—ha! shall I ever have a home in this wilderness? So she\'s the daughter of this old party who owns the Run—the Run—ha! ha! What an idea! This elderly fossil in aboriginal times fed his flocks and herds here. He doesn\'t know the difference between lease and freehold evidently. What ignorant people these Australians are! But the daughter—how could she have acquired that air of fierté, that aplomb, that intonation? I must consider my course. (Puts his head between his hands and seems lost in thought for some minutes.) I have resolved (rises and walks proudly erect) I will visit the old gentleman in his own house. I will convince him of his error. I will argue the point with him. I will show him this Act of Parliament—these Regulations (slaps book). I will appeal to him as an Englishman bound to respect the law. We shall then be on good terms. Perhaps I may even catch a sight of her. But I must finish. (Recommences chopping—sees a horseman approaching, and sits down on log. Mr. Gayters rides up.)

Gayters. Good day—good day, Mr. Whatsisname! So you\'ve sat down here permanent, it seems?

Egremont. My name is Egremont, if you will please to remember; yours I believe to be Gayters. I don\'t quite follow you about sitting down (rises); I get up occasionally, I assure you. But I have settled here permanently, as far as that goes.

Gayters. Oh yes, cert\'nly, cert\'nly, of course! We know all that. Heard it afore. But perhaps you\'ll hear reason (they mostly does). I\'m here to make you an offer—so much on your bargain.

Egremont. I don\'t quite understand?

Gayters. Well (sits down), let\'s argue it out between man and man.

Egremont. I\'m ready; which section do you refer to? (Takes up copy of Act.)

Gayters. Oh, blow the Act! What\'s it got to do with 268it? (Egremont makes gesture of surprise.) See here; of course you\'re here to make money?

Egremont. Honestly—legally—certainly I am.

Gayters. Dash the honesty! the legal part\'s all right of course—else it wouldn\'t wash, you know. Now you know, this being our main camp, it ain\'t the good you can do yourself, but the harm you can do him—the boss—the Hon\'ble Rufus—that\'s what you\'re looking at, naturally.

Egremont (appears puzzled). Can\'t understand you.

Gayters. Perhaps you\'ll understand this (takes out cheque). Mr. Polyblock says, \'Gayters,\' says he, \'we\'ve not been half sharp this time; this here land ought to have been secured. But the young chap\'s been and got the pull, and we can\'t afford to lose our main camp. Of course he\'ll go pounding our stock night and day; so you take him this five \'undred pound—five \'undred! and give it him on conditions as he does the residence for twelve months and then conveys the s\'lection over to me, all legal and ship-shape,\' says he—and here it is. (Hands out cheque.) Ha! ha! I expect you understand me now.

Egremont (rising slowly). I believe I do.

Gayters (rising quickly). Just you sign this, then.

Egremont (with lofty anger). Confound your cheque, sir! Take it back, and with it my scorn and contempt, which you can present to your master, telling him from me, at the same time, that you are a pair of scoundrels!

Gayters. Scoundrels! What d\'ye mean? Are yer off yer chump? A free selector to call the Hon\'ble Mr. Polyblock of Bundabah and his super a pair of scoundrels! Take care what you\'re about, young man. A camp\'s a public place, or close up. \'Words calculated to cause a breach of the peace——\'

Egremont (deliberately). Yes, scoundrels! First of all to insult a gentleman by treating him as a rascally blackmailer; secondly, by offering an honest man money to break the law of the land—to violate every principle of honour and integrity. And now, if you don\'t quit my land at once, I\'ll kick you from here into the brook!

Gayters (hastily mounting). You take care what you\'re about, young man—two can play at that game. (Aside—Most extraordinary chap! Rummest free selector I ever seen.)

269Later—Bundabah House—The Hon\'ble Mr. Polyblock in his morning room, pacing up and down, disturbed in mind. Enter Gayters.

Mr. Polyblock. Well, what is it? He\'s got the money of course—I\'m always had, seems to me. D\'ye want any more cheques? If you\'d been half sharp enough he\'d never have been there.

Gayters. You won\'t want no more cheques, unless you\'re drove to dummying all round him.

Mr. Polyblock. Dummy, sir! Damme! What d\'ye mean by that expression? Are you aware that I\'m a member of the Hupper \'Ouse, Mr. Gayters?

Gayters. Beg pardon, sir. I meant perhaps other parties might desire to select on his pre-lease and might want a bit of assistance, like.

Mr. Polyblock. That\'s another matter! I always make a point of advancing money to the struggling free selector—as long as I get a proper mortgage on the land—Bonus Allround sees to that. But about this young chap?

Gayters. He won\'t take the cheque; all but threw it at me.

Mr. Polyblock (much astonished). Won\'t take the cheque! and won\'t go out?

Gayters. Not he; won\'t hear of it. Called you and—well his language was horful!

Mr. Polyblock. What did he call me—me?

Gayters. Said we was a pair of damned scoundrels! and he\'d kick me off his ground.

Mr. Polyblock (solemnly). This is what the country\'s a-comin\' to! What with universal sufferage, bushranging, and free selection—as is land robbery by Act of Parliament—pore old Australia ain\'t a country for a gentleman to live in. Are you sure he called me, the Hon\'ble Rufus Polyblock, a scoundrel, or was it only you?

Gayters. Both of us, sure as I\'m alive. \'Take this to your master,\' says he, \'with my scorn and contempt.\' He talked like a chap I see at that circus last shearin\'. He looked grand, I tell you, sir.

Hon\'ble Rufus (gloomily). He won\'t look so grand when I\'ve done with him. He\'s got no stock yet?

270Gayters. Not so much as a horse. He\'s building his cottage at present, he says—ha! ha!

Hon\'ble Rufus (grimly). Wait till he gets his stock on, that\'s all. And you watch him—watch him night and day. If he puts a foot on my ground, pull him for trespass; if he touches a head of stock, have him up for stealin\' \'em. It\'s what he\'s layin\' himself out for, of course, and we may as well fit him first as last.
[Exit Gayters.
END OF SECOND ACT
ACT III

Mr. Egremont (discovered nailing up slabs, in order to complete dwelling). Well, this is a most enjoyable life; that is, it will be enjoyable when I have completed my cottage (hits finger with hammer, and examines same), but at present I seem rather hurried. I have had to help the ploughman in order to get the crop in. I have quite ten acres of wheat nicely sown and harrowed. I intend to plant potatoes after the cottage is up, and I must manage to have some turnips; they\'re always useful for the stock. A good deal of money seems to be going out; it is equally certain that none is coming in. No man can have worked harder either in an old or new country. But the worst of it is (sits down on round post and considers), I am not fully convinced that I am working to the best purpose. I may be doing all this for nothing! Miss Polyblock—somehow I\'m always thinking of that girl!—implied as much the last time I saw her. By all the saints and angels, here she comes! How gloriously handsome she always looks, and how well her habit becomes her! Strange, what a gulf there seems to be between us!

Dulcie. So you\'re working away as usual, Mr. Egremont? You certainly are a pattern young man. How hot it must make you this terrible weather?

Egremont. I thought everybody worked hard in this country.

Dulcie. That\'s a popular error, as you\'ll find out by and by. They work in some ways, but not usually with their hands, except when pioneering or exploring.

Egremont. Well, am I not pioneering?

271Dulcie (bursting out laughing). What! upon three hundred and twenty acres of land! Excuse my rudeness in laughing.

Egremont (rather nettled). We think it a decent-sized piece of land in England.

Dulcie. Oh, do you, really? I beg your pardon, but father did all the pioneering work here years and years ago. Fought the blacks when he took up the country, and was speared by them when I was a little girl. So there isn\'t much pioneering left for you to do, is there?

Egremont. I wish there was.

Dulcie. Oh, do you? Then why don\'t you go outside?

Egremont. Outside—outside—where\'s that? I thought I was pretty well outside here; I haven\'t slept under a roof these two months.

Dulcie (laughing again). Oh, indeed, I didn\'t mean that. Of course you\'re outside now; I wish you were not. I\'m afraid you\'ll get a dreadful cold, the weather is so changeable; but I mean real outside country, beyond the settled districts, in Queensland, Western Australia, Kimberley—anywhere.

Egremont. But how far off is that?

Dulcie. Oh, a couple of thousand miles; but it doesn\'t matter how far it is; it\'s the way to make money, and position, an............