“He is,” said Titty.
“Oh,” said mother.
Then John told her of what the charcoal-burners had said, and of how he had gone to give the message himself, because there was no wind and he could not give it to the Amazons.
“You did quite right,” said mother, “but Mrs. Dixon said he was going away for a night or two.”
“He was just going when I saw him this morning,” said John.
“Wasn’t he pleased to get the message?” said mother.
“He wouldn’t listen to me,” said John. “He called me a liar.” The whole trouble of the morning loomed up again.
“He wouldn’t have called you that if he knew you,” said mother. “It doesn’t matter what people think or say if they don’t know you. They may think anything. What did you do?”
“I came away,” said John.
“ Mrs. Blackett says he is very busy over some writing and wants to be let alone. She says she’s afraid her tomboys lead him a terrible life.”
There was silence. It was all right to talk to mother about their own affairs. Mother was a friendly native. But nothing could be said about the affairs of the Amazons. Mother noticed the silence, and at once began to talk of something else. She really was the very best of natives.
The birthday party grew cheerful again. The female native told stories of old days before they had been born. She talked of Malta and Gibraltar, and of sailing in Sydney Harbour when she was a little girl.