"Husband says I must go home."

"But she hasn't got any one else, and won't have any one else. Come,
now," said the landlady, "I've no time to be sitting always in a
sickroom, not if I was paid anything for it."

The Mozambiquer only showed her white teeth good-naturedly for answer,
and went out, and the landlady followed her.

Gregory, glad to be alone, watched the sunshine as it came over the
fuchsias in the window, and ran up and down on the panelled door in the
corner. The Mozambiquer had closed it loosely behind her, and presently
something touched it inside. It moved a little, then it was still, then
moved again; then through the gap a small nose appeared, and a yellow
ear overlapping one eye; then the whole head obtruded, placed itself
critically on one side, wrinkled its nose disapprovingly at Gregory, and
withdrew. Through the half-open door came a faint scent of vinegar, and
the room was dark and still.

Presently the landlady came back.

"Left the door open," she said, bustling to shut it; "but a darky will
be a darky, and never carries a head on its shoulders like other folks.
Not ill, I hope sir?" she said, looking at Gregory when she had shut the
bedroom door.

"No," said Gregory, "no."

The landlady began putting the things together.

"Who," asked Gregory, "is in that room?"

Glad to have a little innocent piece of gossip to relate, and some one
willing to hear it, the landlady made the most of a little story as she
cleared the table. Six months before a lady had come alone to the hotel
in a wagon, with only a coloured leader and driver. Eight days after a
little baby had been born.

If Gregory stood up and looked out at the window he would see a
bluegum-tree in the graveyard; close by it was a little grave. The baby
was buried there. A tiny thing--only lived two hours, and the mother
herself almost went with it. After a while she was better; but one day
she got up out of bed, dressed herself without saying a word to any one,
and went out. It was a drizzly day; a little time after some one saw her
sitting on the wet ground under the bluegum-tree, with the rain dripping
from her hat and shawl. They went to fetch her, but she would not come
until she chose. When she did, she had gone to bed and had not risen
again from it; never would, the doctor said.

She was very patient, poor thing. When you went in to ask her how she
was she said always "Better," or "Nearly well!" and lay still in the
da