b would decline to recognize
bad luck even if it did come your way."

"It's not coming," Tommy said, laughing. "So don't talk about it--I
don't believe it exists." She stood watching him for a moment as he
tried to mount; his big young thoroughbred resented the idea of anyone
on his back, and Jim had to hop beside him, with one foot in the
stirrup, while he danced round in a circle, trying to get away. Jim
seized an opportunity, and was in the saddle with a lithe swing;
whereupon the horse tried to get his head down to buck, and, being
checked in that ambition, progressed down the paddock in a succession of
short, staccato bounds.

"I think I should have to recognize bad luck coming if I had to ride him
instead of Jim," remarked Tommy quaintly. She turned and ran in to her
neglected apricots.

New Year's day broke clear and hot, like all the week before it. Norah,
arriving at the Creek about ten o'clock, looked a little anxiously at
her friend.

"We're used to riding in the heat, Tommy, dear," she said. "But you're
not--are you sure you feel up to it?"

"Why, I'm going to love it," Tommy said. She looked cool and
workman-like in a linen habit and white pith helmet--Norah's Christmas
present. "I hadn't these nice things to wear when Bob and I brought the
sheep out from Cunjee three weeks ago; and it was just as hot, and so
dusty. And that didn't kill me. I liked it, only I never got so dirty in
my life."

"Well, we shall only have a hot ride one way," said Norah
philosophically. "There's a concert in Cunjee, and the boys want to stay
for it. The concert won't be much, but the ride home in the moonlight
will be lovely. You and Bob can stay, of course?"

"Oh, yes. Bill must bring Sarah and the baby home in good time, so he
will milk the cows," Tommy answered. "He wanted them to stay for the
concert, but Sarah had an amazing attack of common sense, and said it
was no place for a baby. I didn't think she considered any place unfit
for a baby, and certainly Bill doesn't."

"Bush people don't," said Norah, laughing. "If they did, they would
never go anywhere, because the babies must go too, no matter what
happens. And the babies get accustomed to it, and don't cry nearly as
much as pampered ones that are always in the nursery."

"Bush kiddies grow a stock of common sense quite early," said Wally's
voice from the door. "It leaves them in later life, and they stay
gossiping with immigrants in new riding-kit, leaving