We Had Left Cheon Sad And Disconsolate, But He Met Us, Filled With Fury,
And Holding A Sack Of Something Soft In His Arms.
"What's 'er matter?" he
spluttered, almost choking with rage.
"Me savey grow cabbage "; and he
flung the sack at our feet as we stood in the homestead thoroughfare
staring at him in wonder. "Paper yabber!" he added curtly, passing a
letter to the Maluka.
It was a kindly, courteous letter from our Eastern neighbour, who had
"ventured to send a cabbage, remembering the homestead garden did not get
on too well." (His visits had been in Sam's day). "How kind!" we said,
and not understanding Cheon's wrath, the Maluka opened the bag, and
passed two fine cabbages to him after duly admiring them.
They acted on Cheon like a red rag on a bull. Flinging them from him, he
sent them spinning across the stony ground with two furious kicks,
following them up with further furious kicks as we looked on in
speechless amazement. "What's 'er matter?" he growled, as, abandoning
the chase with a final lunge, he stalked indignantly back to us; and as
the unfortunate cabbages turned over and lay still on their tattered
backs, he began to explain his wrath. Was he not paid to grow cabbages,
he asked, and where had he failed that we should accept cabbages from
neighbours? Cabbages for ourselves, but insults for him! Then, the
comical side of his nature coming to the surface as unexpectedly as his
wrath, he was overcome with laughter, and clung to a verandah post for
support, while still speechless, we looked on in consternation, for
laughing was a serious matter with Cheon.
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