You
ain't a Freezer on a pedestal, that's all."
"Thank Heaven," the Maluka murmured and the man from Beyanst sympathised
with him. "Must be a bit off for their husbands," he said; and his
apologies were forgotten in the absorbing topic of "Freezers."
"A Freezer on a pedestal," he had said. "Goddess," the world prefers to
call it; and tradition depicts the bushman worshipping afar off.
But a "Freezer" is what he calls it to himself, and contrary to all
tradition, goes on his way unmoved. And why shouldn't he? He may be, and
generally is, sadly in need of a woman friend, "some one to share his
joys and sorrows with", but because he knows few women is no reason why
he should stand afar off and adore the unknowable. "Friendly like" is
what appeals to us all; and the bush-folk are only men, not
monstrosities - rough, untutored men for the most part. The difficult
part to understand is how any woman can choose to stand aloof and freeze,
with warm-hearted men all around her willing to take her into their
lives.
As the men exchanged opinions, "Freezers" appeared solitary
creatures - isolated monuments of awe-inspiring goodness and purity, and I
felt thankful that circumstances had made me only the Little Missus - a
woman, down with the bushmen at the foot of all pedestals, needing all
the love and fellowship she could get, and with no more goodness than she
could do with - just enough to make her worthy of the friendship of "rough
chaps like us."
"Oh well," said the traveller, when he was ready to start, after finding
room in his swag for a couple of books, "I'm not sorry I struck this
camp;" but whether because of the cabbage, or the woman, or the books, he
did not say.
