Page:The Mystery of a Hansom Cab.djvu/151

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THE MYSTERY OF A HANSOM CAB.
147

clothes in the new fashion, without regard to heat or cold. A nation that never surrenders to the fire of an enemy cannot be expected to give in to the fire of the sun, but if some ingenious mortal would only invent some light and airy costume, after the fashion of the Greek dress, and Australians would consent to adopt the same, life in Melbourne and her sister cities would be much cooler than it is at present.

Madge was thinking somewhat after this fashion as she sat on the wide verandah, in a state of exhaustion from the heat, and stared out at the wide plains lying parched and arid under the blazing sun. There was a dim kind of haze rising from the excessive heat, hanging midway between heaven and earth, and through its tremendous veil the distant hills looked æriel and unreal. Just before her was the garden, which made her hot to look at, so vivid were the colors of the flowers. Great bushes of oleanders with their bright pink blossoms, luxurious rose trees, with their yellow, red and white flowers, and all along the border a rainbow of flowers, with such brilliant tints that the eye ached to see them in the hot sunshine, and turned restfully to the cool green of the trees which encircled the lawn. In the center was a round pool, surrounded by a ring of white marble, and containing a sheet of still water, which flashed like a mirror in the blinding light. The homestead of Yabba Yallook station was a long, low house with no upstairs, and with a wide verandah running nearly round it. Cool green blinds were hung between the pillars to keep out the sun, and all along were scattered lounging-chairs of basket-work, with rugs, novels, empty sodawater bottles, and all the other evidences that Mr. Frettlby's guests had been wise, and stayed inside during the noonday heat. Madge was seated in one of these comfortable chairs, and divided her attention between the glowing beauty of the world outside, which she could see through a narrow slit in the blind, and a new novel from Mullen's lying open on her knee. This latter did not interest her much, and no wonder, being one of the polyglot productions of the present day, which contains quotations from the language of every nation under the sun, and where the characters speak in a barbarous jangle of English and French, with an occasional scrap of German thrown in. The powerful and flexible English tongue, which was sufficient for the bril-