The Foot of Time: A Novel of Australia and the South Seas: (1933)

CHAPTER XX.
THE MACKENZIES AT GOOMBAH.
SIR BRUCE ARBUTHNOT thumped Mackenzie on his
broad back.
"You damned Scotchmen are all alike, Mac," he
said. "I'll say this for you: if it's good, sound, sterling
sense I'm requiring—well, I know where to
look for it. I wouldn't have been without you all
these years, man, for all you could have given me,
and you can take that home to your missus with
my salaams."
"I'll do that, Sir," replied Mac; but aye, mon,
there's one thing I would have liked to have preserved
for you, but you would have none of it.
But 'am thinking, Sir—yes, 'am thinking there's
no harm in a thought, Sir Bruce."
"And what the hell might you have been thinking,
old man?" enquired the owner, but suspecting
all the time.
" 'Am thinking—the Scotchman considered—
et /
am thinking," he burst out suddenly as an inspiration
struck him, "that your main fault, Sir,
is that you weren't born North of Tweed. It
might have settled you down to some horse sense,
'am thinking.",
THE FOOT OF TIME 181
The baronet looked suitably impressed—tolerantly
lenient at his junior's candour.
"You haven't told me what it was you would
have liked to have given me, Mac," he suggested,
with a twinkle in his eyes.
"Presairved for you, Sir."
"Preserved for me, then?"
Mackenzie regarded him. Loved him, loathed
him, reverenced him. Embarrassed, he sought
evasion. He had as good as said it already. The
Northerner could read it there in his chief's eyes—
the chief who loved him as one loves a son.
"Come, out with it man! What the devil do you
wish you could have preserved for me?"
Sir Bruce wanted him to say it, but Mackenzie
couldn't bring himself to it.
"A straight waistcoat, Sir," he replied, and took
himself off.
Sir Bruce watched him go, strutting stockily
down the garden path.
"We English have our uses," he soliloquised to himself
sadly. At least, I suppose some of us have. But
I couldn't run this place without a Scotchman. I
shall miss him—still, there are trains out of Euston.
He'll retire one day—I'll force him to. I wonder—"
He heaved a profound sigh, turned and
strode with firm, confident tread to his bungalow
—his bungalow and hers that had been. What a
fool he was! He wondered what part of England
she lived in, whether she had gone back to her
people. He reached his house. Abdul, rather grey
. ..