G LONG AGO."

A minute or two passed.

"It would n't matter," Dad continued, "if there was no way of doing
better; but there IS. The thing only requires to be DONE, and why not
DO it?" He paused for an answer.

"Well," Dave said, "let us commence it straight off--t'morror. It's
the life that'd suit ME."

"Of course it WOULD...and there's money in it...no mistake about it!"

A few minutes passed. Then they went inside, and Dad took Mother into
his confidence, and they sat up half the night discussing the scheme.

Twelve months later. The storekeeper was at the house wanting to see
Dad. Dad was n't at home. He never was when the storekeeper came; he
generally contrived to be away, up the paddock somewhere or amongst the
corn--if any was growing. The storekeeper waited an hour or so, but
Dad did n't turn up. When he was gone, though, Dad walked in and asked
Mother what he had said. Mother was seated on the sofa,
troubled-looking.

"He must be paid by next week," she said, bursting into tears, "or the
place'll be sold over our heads."

Dad stood with his back to the fire-place, his hand locked behind him,
watching the flies swarming on the table.

Dave came in. He understood the situation at a glance. The scene was
not new to him. He sat down, leant forward, picked a straw off the
flor and twisted it round and round his finger, reflecting.

Little Bill put his head on Mother's lap, and asked for a piece of
bread...He asked a second time.

"There IS no bread, child," she said.

"But me wants some, mumma."

Dad went outside and Dave followed. They sat on their heels, their
backs to the barn, thoughtfully studying the earth.

"It's the same thing"--Dad said, reproachfully--"from one year's end to
the other...alwuz a BILL!"

"Thought last year we'd be over all this by now!" from Dave.

"So we COULD...Can NOW...It only wants that land to be taken up; and,
as I've said often and often, these cows taken----"

Dad caught sight of the storekeeper coming back, and ran into the barn.

Six months later. Dinner about ready. "Take up a thousand acres," Dad
was saying; "take it up----"

He was interrupted by a visitor.

"Are you Mister Rudd?" Dad said he was.

"Well, er--I've a FI. FA. against y'."

Dad didn't understand.

The Sheriff's officer drew a document from his inside breast-pocket and
proceeded to read:

"To Mister James Williams, my bailiff. Greeting: By virtue of Her
Majesty's w