Mayenga Farm Read Online Free PDF Page B

paint. Jackie would adore the Dolly Varden in the small bay window; she would spread her skirts over the stool tilt her head and unashamedly soak in her lovely image in the mirror. A few times, when they were at school together, Rennie had envied the raven-haired little minx her air of knowledge and ease. Even in her teens she had carried an atmosphere of mystery and beguilement. At twenty she must be ravishing. How crazy to be so utterly thrilled at the prospect of seeing Jac again.
    Adrian said: "You're like a kitten on hot coals. Let's start, shall we?"
    The train came in late but there was plenty to observe while they waited. On the opposite platform crowds of natives jostled and laughed and hugged their bundles, or squatted in circles and threw home-made dice. These were city workers returning to the locations for the night. Trains were so infrequent that often they had to spend two hours waiting for one to take them five miles. It was not that they had lost the native faculty for long, tireless walking, but they loved crowding into trains and hanging out of the glassless windows, singing and shouting. It gave them a sense of power to produce a coin and buy a ticket, to step into the dusty carriage and join the scrum for the wooden seats.
    The train came in and a few people got out. Rennie sped along to the last open door and into Jacqueline's madly-waving arms.
    "Rennie, you wonderful thing! I’ve been dying for this. You haven’t changed a bit."
    "You have, Jac! You're lovelier than ever."
    So she was. A piquant, laughing face, brilliant dark eyes and clouds of smoky hair topped by a delicious little rake of a hat that flaunted scarlet ribbons to the breeze. A Paris frock in devastating silk tartan, and a short white lambskin coat. Perhaps it was the wide green background, the hovering dusk, which helped Jac to appear so vital and jubilant.
    "Rennie, darling, here’s Mother. Adela, you remember Rennie Gaynor? Sweet as ever, isn’t she? Lead us to your noble father, Rennie! I always loved him, though I’m sure he disapproved of me sometimes."
    Adela, tall, tailored and lacquered, extended a beautifully-kept hand. In spite of make-up and poise, the dissatisfied droop at the corners of her mouth was plainly visible. Obviously, a fly threatened the amber of Adela’s content. But after greeting Adrian and fussing a little over the two grips, she made a charming companion. She sat beside him in the car while the two girls occupied the back. She did not complain about the choking dust and the corrugations in the road surface, and only once did she mention that this was a rather long twelve miles. Which was exceptionally long-suffering, for Adela.
    Jackie kept up a flow of questions and comments.
    "How can you bear to live so far from everywhere, Rennie? Isn’t the bushveld nearly as unhealthy as the tropics? Someone told us we must take quinine to avoid malaria. You don’t do that? But, Rennie, think of what you’re risking! I’d die of fright if I thought I had malaria. And, darling, you work so hard — and at farming. It sounds terribly grim. You can’t mean that you enjoy living here and grubbing about with the soil. Gravenburg, I should think, one could tolerate for a short time, but you are buried away miles from the town. What do you do for men?"
    "What sort of men?" asked Rennie, intentionally obtuse.
    Jacqueline threw out her hands. "Eligibles, you idiot. Nice boys to play with, serious ones with property from whom to choose a husband." Her head lay critically on one side. "In your quiet way you’re pretty, Rennie. That rich brown hair and grey eyes make an appealing combination, and such a mouth as yours should be kissed . . . often. Don’t blush, Rennie! It should, and I don’t care if your learned father hears me say it." As Adrian’s head turned for an instant she dazzled him with a smile. "When you look like that, Mr. Gaynor, it is easy to see where Rennie gets her good features."
    Yes, Jackie was