ill be your turn next, Joe."

"I suppose so," said Joe, resignedly.

The wind fell.

I remember, I remember,
And it gives me little joy,
To think I'm further off from heaven,
Than when I was a boy!

When Peter came back another thought seemed to have occurred to him.

"How's your mother getting on, Joe?" he asked. "She shifted to Sydney
after your father died, didn't she?"

"Oh, she's getting on all right!" said Joe, without elaboration.

"Keeping a boarding-house, isn't she?"

"Yes," said Joe.

"Hard to make ends meet, I suppose?" said Peter. "It's almost a harder
life than it could have been on the old selection, and there's none of
the old independence about it. A woman like your mother must feel it,
Joe."

"Oh, she's all right," said Joe. "She's used to it by this time. I
manage to send her a few pounds now and again. I send her all I can," he
added resentfully.

Peter sat corrected for a few moments. Then he seemed to change the
subject.

"It's some time since you were in Sydney last, isn't it, Joe?'

"Yes, Peter," said Joe. "I haven't been there for two years. I never did
any good there. I'm far better knocking about out back."

There was a pause.

"Some men seem to get on better in one place, some in another,"
reflected Mitchell, lazily. "For my part, I seem to get on better in
another."

Peter blinked, relit his pipe with a stick from the fire and reflected.

The surveyor's song had been encored:

I remember, I remember--

Perhaps Peter remembered. Joe did, but there were no vines round the
house where he was born, only drought and dust, and raspy voices raised
in recrimination, and hardship most times.

"I remember," said Peter, quietly, "I remember a young fellow at home in
the old country. He had every advantage. He had a first-class education,
a great deal more money than he needed--almost as much as he asked
for, and nearly as much freedom as he wanted. His father was an English
gentleman and his mother an English lady. They were titled people, if
I remember rightly. The old man was proud, but fond of his son; he
only asked him to pay a little duty or respect now and again. We don't
understand these things in Australia--they seem formal and cold to
us. The son paid his respects to his father occasionally--a week or so
before he'd be wanting money, as a rule. The mother was a dear lady.
She idolized her son. She only asked for a little show of affection fro