The Well Read Online Free PDF

needs. He knows you don’t want to sell but would you rent …? It would be possible,’ Mr Bird added, taking the mug of tea Hester pushed towards him, ‘for you and Miss Katherine to have one of those transportable homes, very neat and new, you could have it way over by the trees, very private. The Bordens would keep to their side of the fence. Very neat and comfortable the transportables, labour saving, cut out all the polishings and repaintings that uses up your time …’
    â€˜Never!’ Hester Harper, struggled to her feet, grabbing at her clumsy stick quickly to support herself. ‘I am perfectly comfortable here, thank you, I enjoy looking after the house and the verandahs. I am used to the place. I have always lived here, it’s my home.’
    â€˜It’s two houses you have really,’ Mr Bird ventured to remark.
    â€˜You don’t need to tell me what my house is,’ Hester snapped. ‘It’s our home.’ She nodded in the direction of Katherine who, seeming not to like seeing Miss Harper upset, bent her oven-red cheeks towards the white bosom of her apron. Before there was time for further talk Hester called Katherine telling her to please show Mr Bird into the hall and out.
    Mr Bird stayed away for a few days. Meanwhile Hester’s busy mind during some sleepless nights (she was unaccustomed to being sleepless) was thinking things over. She was far from stupid. Mr Bird had made a point with his suggestion, she allowed this. The farmhouse was in fact two substantial houses joined by wooden verandahs; the mellow boards, she reflected, took hours of work. It was work that she loved, her life consisting always of pattern and tradition and certain ritual. The smell of linseed oil and turpentine was one of the comforts belonging to the serenity she felt when working about the house caring for polished corners and ledges. The floorboards in all the rooms gave her pleasure as did the old carpet runners and rugs. She loved thick glossy paint and enjoyed the repetitive repaintings of the walls and doors and window frames of the out-buildings. There was too the careful pleasure of washing ancient curtains, tablecloths and cushion covers alternating with an equally careful washing of antique teasets and dinner services, bowls, cups and plates and jugs and saucers, things never used but cherished as being, like the glowing furniture, part of the treasure of the old farmhouse.
    The house was big and very cold in winter. Some rooms, requiring constant cleaning, were damp because they were never used. She did not want to entertain guests and certainly never now considered guests who would stay a night or several nights. She was happier simply to be alone with Katherine, just two people in a big house. Mr Bird was really right. The money from the rent, Mr Borden’s rent, would lift the dwindling income. But a transportable house. ‘Never!’ she said aloud and, getting up early, she dressed quickly, waking Kathy quite roughly. ‘Get up!’ she said, ‘we’re going out for the day.’
    An hour later they were driving in Hester’s latest purchase. They drove across the paddocks so recently busy with the harvest machinery. Sheep, already feeding there, scattered and were soon hidden in the cloud of dust which accompanied the travellers.
    â€˜It’s much shorter this way, dear,’ Hester explained to Katherine who sat jolting on the seat clutching a hastily put-together luncheon basket from which protruded a bottle of Hester’s favourite wine. She always said she could smell freshly cut grass whenever she drank it. ‘We would be three times as long going round by the road,’ Hester added. She explained to Katherine that there was an old cottage in the farthest corner of her land. It was a shepherd’s cottage belonging to the days when men went about their work on foot or on horseback. ‘No one has lived at this end of