The Penguin Henry Lawson Short Stories by Henry Lawson

Author:Henry Lawson
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781742284286
Publisher: Penguin Random House Australia
Published: 2009-03-01T16:00:00+00:00

A DOUBLE BUGGY AT LAHEY’S CREEK

I

SPUDS, AND A WOMAN’S OBSTINACY

EVER since we were married it had been Mary’s great ambition to have a buggy. The house or furniture didn’t matter so much – out there in the Bush where we were – but, where there were no railways or coaches, and the roads were long, and mostly hot and dusty, a buggy was the great thing. I had a few pounds when we were married, and was going to get one then; but new buggies went high, and another party got hold of a second-hand one that I’d had my eye on, so Mary thought it over and at last she said, ‘Never mind the buggy, Joe; get a sewing-machine and I’ll be satisfied. I’ll want the machine more than the buggy, for a while. Wait till we’re better off.’

After that, whenever I took a contract – to put up a fence or wool-shed, or sink a dam or something – Mary would say, ‘You ought to knock a buggy out of this job, Joe’; but something always turned up – bad weather or sickness. Once I cut my foot with the adze and was laid up; and, another time, a dam I was making was washed away by a flood before I finished it. Then Mary would say, ‘Ah, well – never mind, Joe. Wait till we are better off.’ But she felt it hard the time I built a wool-shed and didn’t get paid for it, for we’d as good as settled about another second-hand buggy then.

I always had a fancy for carpentering, and was handy with tools. I made a spring-cart – body and wheels – in spare time, out of colonial hardwood, and got Little the blacksmith to do the ironwork: I painted the cart myself. It wasn’t much lighter than one of the tip-drays I had, but it was a spring-cart, and Mary pretended to be satisfied with it: anyway, I didn’t hear any more of the buggy for a while.

I sold that cart for fourteen pounds, to a Chinese gardener who wanted a strong cart to carry his vegetables round through the Bush. It was just before our first youngster came: I told Mary that I wanted the money in case of extra expense – and she didn’t fret much at losing the cart. But the fact was that I was going to make another try for a buggy, as a present for Mary when the child was born. I thought of getting the turn-out while she was laid up, keeping it dark from her till she was on her feet again, and then showing her the buggy standing in the shed. But she had a bad time, and I had to have the doctor regularly, and get a proper nurse, and a lot of things extra; so the buggy idea was knocked on the head. I was set on it, too; I’d thought of how, when Mary was up and getting strong, I’d

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