led his
hat well over his eyes, and "shaped up" to the writing material, none of
which met with his approval. The ink was "warter", the pens had not
enough "pint", and the paper was "trash"; but on being assured it was the
good stuff he had purchased especially for himself, he buckled to the
fray, producing in three hours a half-sheet epistle, which in grammar,
composition, and spelling quite eclipsed the entries in his diary.
However, it served its purpose, and my parents wrote back that, did I
reach Goulburn on a certain day, a neighbour who would be in town then
would bring me home.

Now that it was settled that I had no more to teach the dirty children,
out of dirty books, lessons for which they had great disinclination, and
no more to direct Lizer's greasy fingers over the yellow keys of that
demented piano in a vain endeavour to teach her "choones", of which her
mother expected her to learn on an average two daily, it seemed as though
I had a mountain lifted off me, and I revived magically, got out of bed
and packed my things.

I was delighted at the prospect of throwing off the leaden shackles of
Barney's Gap, but there was a little regret mingled with my relief. The
little boys had not been always bold. Did I express a wish for a
parrot-wing or water-worn stone, or such like, after a time I would be
certain, on issuing from my bedroom, to find that it had been
surreptitiously laid there, and the little soft-eyed fellows would
squabble for the privilege of bringing me my post, simply to give me
pleasure. Poor little Lizer, and Rose Jane too, copied me in style of
dress and manners in a way that was somewhat ludicrous but more pathetic.

They clustered round to say good-bye. I would be sure to write. Oh yes,
of course, and they would write in return and tell me if the bay mare got
well, and where they would find the yellow turkey-hen's nest. When I got
well I must come back, and I wouldn't have as much work to do, but go for
more rides to keep well, and so on. Mrs M'Swat very anxiously impressed
it upon me that I was to explain to my mother that it was not her (Mrs
M'Swat's) fault that I "ailed" from overwork, as I had never complained and
always seemed well.

With a kindly light on his homely sunburnt face, M'Swat said, as he put
me on the train:

"Sure, tell yer father he needn't worry over the money. I'll never be
hard on him, an' if ever I could help ye, I'd be glad."

"Thank you; you are very good, and