y through the bush paddock afterwards, often with a bewildered
"mum" looking amazedly at the tall young man who drove it.

Meanwhile Bob Rainham, left alone with his host, set about the business
of his new farm in earnest, since there seemed nothing else for him to
do; and David Linton, possibly glad of the occupation, threw himself
into the work. The farm was bought on terms that seemed to Bob
very easy--he did not know that Mr. Linton stood security for his
payments--and then began the task of stocking it and of planning just
what was best to do with each paddock. The house, left bare and clean by
the last owners, was in good repair, save that the dingy white painting
of the exterior, and the varnished pine walls and ceilings within were
depressing and shabby. Mr. Linton decided that his house-warming present
to Tommy should be a coat of paint for her mansion, and soon it looked
new--dark red, with a gleaming white roof, while the rooms were painted
in pretty fresh colours. "Won't Tommy get a shock!" chuckled Bob
gleefully. The dinginess of the house had not escaped him on the
morning that they had made their first inspection, but Tommy, who loved
freshness and colours, had made no sign. Had you probed the matter,
Tommy would probably have remarked, with some annoyance, that it was not
her job to begin by grumbling.

Wally came hurtling back from Queensland at the first hint of the
influenza outbreak, and was considerably depressed at finding his twin
souls, Jim and Norah, engaged in jobs that for once he could not share.
Therefore he, too, fell back on the new farm, and found Bob knitting his
brow one evening over the question of furniture.

"I don't want to buy much," he said. "Tommy doesn't, either; we talked
it over. We'd rather do with next to nothing, and buy decent stuff by
degrees if we get on well. Tommy says she doesn't want footling little
gimcracky tables and whatnots and things, nor dressing-tables full of
drawers that won't pull out. But I've been looking at the cheap stuff in
Cunjee, and, my word, it's nasty! Still, I can't afford good things now,
and Tommy wouldn't like it if I tried to get 'em. Tommy's death on the
simple life."

"How are you on tools?" queried Wally.

"Using tools? Pretty fair," admitted Bob. "I took up carpentering at
school; it was always a bit of a hobby of mine. I'm no cabinet-maker, if
that's what you mean."

"You don't need to be," Wally answered. "Up where I come from--w