him
till assistance came.

So, of course, he had earned his right to the cottage and the
daily rations and the pipe that never stirred from his lips.

Two of the station hands lived in the other cottage when they
were not out in distant parts of the run.

Close to the house was a long weather-board building with a heavy,
padlocked door.

"Oh, let's go in," Nell said, attracted by the size of the
padlock; "it looks like a treasure-house in a book--mayn't we
go in, please, little grandma?"

They were exploring all the buildings--the six children in a body,
Mrs. Hassal, whom they all called "little grandma," much to her
pleasure, and Esther with the boy.

"You must go and ask Mr. Gillet," the old lady said; "he keeps
the keys of the stores. See, over in that cottage near the tank,
and speak nicely, children, please."

"Such a gentleman," she said in a low tone to Esther, "so clever,
so polished, if only he did not drink so."

Meg and Judy went, with Baby hurrying after them as fast as her
short legs would allow.

"Come in," a voice said, when they knocked. Meg hesitated
nervously, and a man opened the door. Such a great, gaunt man,
with restless, unhappy eyes, a brown, wide brow, and neatly
trimmed beard.

Judy stated that Mrs. Hassal had sent them for the keys, if he had
no objection.

He asked them to come in and sit down while he looked for them.

Meg was surprised at the room, as her blue eyes plainly showed, for
she had only heard him spoken of as the store-keeper. There were
bookshelves, on which she saw Shakespeare and Browning and Shelley
and Rossetti and Tennyson, William Morris, and many others she had
never seen before. There were neatly framed photographs and engravings
of English and Continental scenery on the walls. There was a little
chased silver vase on a bracket, and some of the flowers from the
passion vines in it. The table with the remains of breakfast on
it was as nice on a small scale as the one she had just left in
the big cottage.

He came back froth the inner room with the keys. "I was afraid I
had mislaid then," he said; "the middle one opens the padlock,
Miss Woolcot; the brass fat one is for the two bins, and the
long steel one for the cupboard."

"Thank you so much. I'm afraid we disturbed you in the middle of your
breakfast," Meg said, standing up and blushing because she thought he
had noticed her surprise at the bookshelves.

He disclaimed the trouble, and h