id, 'Dick. I've prayed whole nights through
and vowed my life to the Blessed Virgin. She may accept the service of
my years that are to come. It may be permitted after all the sins of our
people.'

After this she dried her eyes and went to her room for a bit, while I
had a quiet, easy sort of talk with mother, she saying a word or two
now and then, and looking at me most of the time, as if that was enough
without talking.

Then Aileen came out of her room with her habit and hat on. 'Run up
my horse, Dick,' she says, 'and I'll take you over to see George
Storefield's new place. A ride will do me good, and I daresay you're not
tired.'

I caught her horse and saddled him for her, and off we went down the old
track we knew so well all our lives.

I told her all about our lark with old George, and how good he'd been
through it all; besides promising to give us a lift through his country
when we made the grand start. She said it was just like him--that he
was the kindest soul in the world, and the most thoughtful. The new Mrs.
Storefield had been very civil and friendly to her, and told her she
knew George's feeling towards her, and respected it. But Aileen never
could feel at home in the grand new house now, and only would go to see
old Mrs. Storefield, who still lived in the family cottage, and found
it the best suited to her. So we yarned away till we got in sight of the
place. When I saw the new two-story stone house I was regular struck all
of a heap.

Old George had got on in the world and no mistake. He'd worked early and
late, always been as steady as a rock, and had looked ahead instead
of taking his pleasure straight off when he got the first few hundred
pounds together. He'd seen fat cattle must be dear and scarce for years
to come. Noticed, too, that however cheap a far-away bit of country was
held, sometimes bought for 200 or 300 Pounds, it always rose in value
year by year. So with store cattle. Now and again they'd fall to
nothing. Then he'd buy a whole lot of poor milkers' calves about
Burrangong, or some of those thick places where they never fattened, for
1 Pound a head or less, and send them away to his runs in the Lachlan.
In six months you wouldn't know 'em. They'd come down well-grown fat
cattle in a year or two, and be worth their 6 or 8 Pounds a head.

The same way with land; he bought up all the little bits of
allotments with cottages on them round Paramatta and Windsor way and
Campbelltown--a