he was always a dead hand at
splitting. Then there was a big hay-shed, chock-full of good sweet hay
and wheat sheaves, and, last of all, the new stable, with six stalls
and a loft above, and racks, all built of ironbark slabs, as solid and
reg'lar as a church, Jim said.

They'd a good six-roomed cottage and a new garden fence ever so long.
There were more fruit trees in the garden and a lot of good draught
horses standing about, that looked well, but as if they'd come off a
journey.

The stable door opens, and out comes old George as hearty as ever, but
looking full of business.

'Glad to see you, boys,' he says; 'what a time you've been away! Been
away myself these three months with a lot of teams carrying. I've taken
greatly to the business lately. I'm just settling up with my drivers,
but put the horses in, there's chaff and corn in the mangers, and I'll
be down in a few minutes. It's well on to dinner-time, I see.'

We took the bridles off and tied up the horses--there was any amount of
feed for them--and strolled down to the cottage again.

'Wonder whether Gracey's as nice as she used to be,' says Jim. 'Next to
Aileen I used to think she wasn't to be beat. When I was a little chap
I believed you and she must be married for certain. And old George and
Aileen. I never laid out any one for myself, I remember.'

'The first two don't look like coming off,' I said. 'You're the
likeliest man to marry and settle if Jeanie sticks to you.'

'She'd better go down to the pier and drown herself comfortably,' said
Jim. 'If she knew what was before us all, perhaps she would. Poor little
Jeanie! We'd no right to drag other people into our troubles. I believe
we're getting worse and worse. The sooner we're shot or locked up the
better.'

'You won't think so when it comes, old man,' I said. 'Don't bother your
head--it ain't the best part of you--about things that can't be helped.
We're not the only horses that can't be kept on the course--with a good
turn of speed too.'

'"They want shooting like the dingoes," as Aileen said. They're never no
good, except to ruin those that back 'em and disgrace their owners and
the stable they come out of. That's our sort, all to pieces. Well, we'd
better come in. Gracey 'll think we're afraid to face her.'

When we went away last Grace Storefield was a little over seventeen,
so now she was nineteen all out, and a fine girl she'd grown. Though I
never used to think her a beauty, now I a