or minding the Billabong horde when it
comes over, you can do a little towards improving the creek. I say, Bob,
it sounds the sort of life I'd love. Can't you give me a job, old man?"

"Seeing that you've done little but work on this place since you came
back from Queensland, I shouldn't think you'd need to ask for a job,"
retorted Bob. "However, I'll take you on as milker if you like--it's
about the only thing you haven't sampled."

"No," said Wally, "you won't. Whatever beast I finally take to by way
of earning my living, it won't be the cow--if I can help it. I'd sooner
graze giraffes!"

"Oh, do try!" Norah begged. "I'd love to see you trying to put a bridle
on one in a hurry!"

"Wonder what would happen if one rode a giraffe and he reared?" pondered
Jim.

"You'd have to swarm up his neck and hang on to his little horns," Wally
said. "But they're nice, silent beasts, giraffes, and I think they'd be
very restful to deal with."

Every one laughed unsympathetically. Restfulness was the last quality
to be associated with Wally, who had been remarkable throughout his life
for total inability to keep still.

"It's always the way," said Wally, in tones of melancholy. "Every
fortune teller I ever saw told me that no one understood me."

"All fortune tellers say that, and that's why people think them so
clever," said Tommy. "It's so soothing to think one is misunderstood. My
stepmother always thought so. Did Bob tell you, Mr. Linton, that we had
had letters from home?"

"No--from your people?"

"From Papa. The she-dragon didn't write. I think her words would
have been too burning to put on paper. But Papa wrote a pretty decent
letter--for him. He didn't speak of our letters from Liverpool--the
notes we wrote from the hotel, saying we were leaving for Australia.
But he acknowledged Bob's letter from Melbourne, saying we were going
up country under your wing, and actually wished us luck! Amazing, from
Papa!"

"I think he's jolly glad we got away," Bob said.

"I think that's highly probable," said David Linton. "You'll write to
him occasionally, won't you?"

"Oh, yes, I suppose so," Bob answered. "Sometimes I'm a bit sorry
for him; it must be pretty awful to be always under the heel of a
she-dragon. Oh, and there was a really fatherly sort of letter from old
Mr. Clinton. He's an old brick; and he's quite pleased about our finding
you--or you finding us. He was always a bit worried lest Tommy should
feel lonesom