"Chuckie!" he sang, placing the pullets before the Maluka, and
dispatching Jimmy's Nellie for hot plates; "Roast Vealer for Mac," and as
Mac smiled and acknowledged the honour, Rosy was dismissed. "Boilee
Ham" was allotted to the Dandy; and as Bertie's Nellie scampered away,
Cheon announced other triumphs in turn and in order of merit, each of the
company receiving a dish also in order of merit: Tam-o'-Shanter
contenting himself with the gravy boat, while, from the beginning, the
Quiet Stockman had been honoured with the hop-beer.
Long before the last waitress was relieved, the carvers were at work, and
the company was bubbling over with merriment. "Have some veal, chaps?"
the Sanguine Scot said, opening the ball by sticking a carving fork into
the great joint, and waving the knife in a general way round the company;
then as the gravy sizzed out in a steaming gurgle he added invitingly:
"Come on, chaps! This is VEAL prime stuff! None of your staggering Bob
tack"; and the Maluka and the Dandy bidding against him, to Cheon's
delight, every one "came on" for some of everything; for veal and ham and
chicken and several vegetables and sauces blend wonderfully together when
a Cheon's hand has been at the helm.
The higher the plates were piled the more infectious Cheon's chuckle
became, until nothing short of a national calamity could have checked our
flow of spirits. Mishaps only added to our enjoyment, and when a bottle
of hop-beer went off unexpectedly as the Quiet Stockman was preparing to
open it, and he, with the best intentions in the world, planted his thumb
over the mouth of the bottle, and directed two frothing streams over
himself and the company in general, the delight of every one was
unbounded - a delight intensified a hundredfold by Cheon, who, with his
last doubt removed, danced and gurgled in the background, chuckling in an
ecstasy of joy: "My word, missus! That one beer PLENTY jump up!" As
there were no carpets to spoil, and every one's clothes had been washed
again and again, no one's temper was spoiled, and a clean towel quickly
repairing all damages, our only regret was that a bottle of beer had been
lost.
But the plum-pudding was yet to come, and only Cheon was worthy to carry
it to the feast; and as he came through the leafy way, bearing the huge
mottled ball, as big as a bullock's head - all ablaze with spirits and
dancing light and crowned with mistletoe - it would have been difficult
to say which looked most pleased with itself, Cheon or the pudding; for
each seemed wreathed in triumphant smiles.
We held our breaths in astonishment, each feeling like the entire
Cratchit family rolled into one, and by the time we had recovered speech,
Cheon was soberly carrying one third of the pudding to the missus. The
Maluka had put it aside on a plate to simplify the serving of the
pudding, and Cheon, sure that the Maluka could mean such a goodly slice
for no one but the missus, had carried it off.
There were to be no "little-fellow helps" this time. Cheon saw to that,
returning the goodly slice to the Maluka under protest, and urging all to
return again and again for more. How he chuckled as we hunted for the
"luck" and the "wealth," like a parcel of children, passing round bushman
jokes as we hunted.
"Too much country to work," said one of the Macs, when after a second
helping they were both still "missing." "Covered their tracks all
right," said another. The Quiet Stockman "reckoned they were bushed all
right." "Going in a circle," the sick Mac suggested, and then a shout
went up as the Dandy found the "luck" in his last mouthful.
"Perhaps some one's given the "wealth" to his dog," Tam suggested, to our
consternation; for that was more than possible, as the dogs from time to
time had received tit-bits from their masters as a matter of course.
But the man who deserved it most was to find it. As we sat sipping tea,
after doing our best with the cakes and water-melons, we heard strange
gurgles in the kitchen, and then Cheon appeared choking and coughing, but
triumphantly announcing that he had found the wealth in his first
mouthful. "My word! Me close up gobble him," he chuckled, exhibiting
the pudding-coated threepence, and not one of us grudged him his good
omens. May they have been fulfilled a thousand-fold!
Undoubtedly our Christmas dinner was a huge success - from a black
fellow's point of view it was the most sensible thing we Whites had ever
organised; for half the Vealer, another huge pudding, several yards of
sweet currant "brownie,'" a new pipe apiece, and a few pounds of tobacco
had found their way to the "humpy"; and although headaches may have been
in the near future, there was never a heartache among them.
All afternoon we sat and chatted as only the bush-folk can (the bush-folk
are only silent when in uncongenial society), "putting in" a fair amount
of time writing our names on one page of an autograph album; and as
strong brown hands tried their utmost to honour Christmas day with
something decent in the way of writing, each man declared that he had
never written so badly before, while the company murmured: "Oh, yours is
all right. Look at mine!"
Jack, however, was the exception; for when his turn came, with quiet
humour he "thought that on the whole his was a bit better'n last
Christmas," which naturally set us discussing the advantages of
learning; but when we all agreed "it would be a bit off having to employ
a private secretary when you were doing a bit of courting," Jack hastened
to assure us that "courting" would never be in his line - coming events do
not always throw shadows before them.
