Summary

Portrait of Miles Franklin Miles Franklin My Brilliant Career — Chapter XIII (1901)

He was a young man--a very young man, a bushman tremendously tall and big and sunburnt, with an open pleasant face and chestnut moustache--not at all an awe-inspiring fellow, in spite of his unusual, though well-proportioned and carried, height. I knew it must be Harold Beecham, of Five-Bob Downs, as I had heard he stood six feet three and a half in his socks.
I hurriedly let down my dress, the lemons rolling in a dozen directions, and turned to flee, but that well-formed figure bounded before me with the agility of a cat and barred my way.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Miles Franklin Miles Franklin My Brilliant Career — Chapter XIII (1901)

Harold Beecham dismounted, and, leaning over the fence, lingered with me, leaving the bullocks to uncle Jay-Jay. Uncle raved vigorously. Women, he asserted, were the bane of society and the ruination Of all men; but he had always considered Harold as too sensible to neglect his business to stand grinning at a pesky youngster in short skirts and a pigtail.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Miles Franklin Miles Franklin My Brilliant Career — Chapter XIII (1901)

My hair was most unbecomingly screwed up, the short ends sticking out like a hurrah's nest.
It was late in the day when, returning from my ramble, I was met on the doorstep by aunt Helen.
"While you are in that trim, I wish you would pluck some lemons for me. I'm sure there is no danger of you ruining your turn-out. A sketch of you would make a good item for the _Bulletin_," she said.
Source: Wikisource

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