that burying. The priest nodded
amiably.

'Aye,' he said; 'we'll see about it, we'll see about it, presently.
But just now you're going to a beautiful house at Myall Creek--St.
Peter's. And, if ye're a real good lad, ye'll be let stay there, an'
get a fine education, an' all--if ye're a good lad. Y'r poor father
asked this for ye, like a wise man; and if we can get ut for ye, the
sisters will make a man of ye in no time--if ye're a good lad.'

'Yes, sir,' I replied meekly; and, so far as I remember, spake no
other word while seated in that swiftly drawn sulky. I learned
afterwards that the reverend father was not only a good judge of
horse-flesh, but a famous hand at a horse deal, just as he was a
notably shrewd man of business, and good at a bargain of any kind. So
I fancy was every one connected with the Orphanage.

I did not, as a fact, attend my father's funeral, nor was I ever again
as far from Myall Creek as Werrina during the whole of my term at the
Orphanage.

There were fifty-nine 'inmates,' as distinguished from other residents
there, when my name was entered on the books of St. Peter's Orphanage.
So I brought the ranks of the orphans up to sixty. The whole
institution was managed by a Sister-in-charge and three other sisters:
Sister Agatha, Sister Mary, and Sister Catharine. No doubt the
Sister-in-charge had a name, but one never heard it. She was always
spoken of as 'Sister-in-charge.' There was no male member of the staff
except Tim the boatman; and he was hardly like a man, in the ordinary
worldly sense, since he was an old orphan, and had been brought up at St.
Peter's. He played an important part in the life of the place,
because, in a way, he and his punt formed the bridge connecting us
with the rest of the world.

St. Peter's stood on a small island, under three hundred acres in
area, at the mouth of the Myall Creek, where that stream opens into
the arm of the sea called Burke Water. Our landing-stage was, I
suppose, a couple of hundred yards from the Myall Creek wharf--the
'Crick Wharf,' as it was always called; and it was Tim's job to bridge
that gulf by means of the punt, which he navigated with an oar passed
through a hole in its flat stern. The punt was roomy, but a cumbersome
craft.

The orphans ranged in age all the way from about three years on to the
twenties. Alf Loddon was twenty-six, I believe; but he, though strong,
and a useful hand at the plough, or with an axe, or in the shafts