king at some 'indications' (of the existence of gold) he had found.
It was no use trying to 'pump' him concerning his sister-in-law;
Brighten was an 'old hand', and had learned in the old Bush-ranging and
cattle-stealing days to know nothing about other people's business. And,
by the way, I noticed then that the more you talk and listen to a bad
character, the more you lose your dislike for him.

I never saw such a change in a woman as in Brighten's sister-in-law
that evening. She was bright and jolly, and seemed at least ten years
younger. She bustled round and helped her sister to get tea ready. She
rooted out some old china that Mrs Brighten had stowed away somewhere,
and set the table as I seldom saw it set out there. She propped Jim up
with pillows, and laughed and played with him like a great girl. She
described Sydney and Sydney life as I'd never heard it described before;
and she knew as much about the Bush and old digging days as I did. She
kept old Brighten and me listening and laughing till nearly midnight.
And she seemed quick to understand everything when I talked. If she
wanted to explain anything that we hadn't seen, she wouldn't say that it
was 'like a--like a'--and hesitate (you know what I mean); she'd hit the
right thing on the head at once. A squatter with a very round, flaming
red face and a white cork hat had gone by in the afternoon: she said
it was 'like a mushroom on the rising moon.' She gave me a lot of good
hints about children.

But she was quiet again next morning. I harnessed up, and she dressed
Jim and gave him his breakfast, and made a comfortable place for him
on the load with the 'possum rug and a spare pillow. She got up on the
wheel to do it herself. Then was the awkward time. I'd half start to
speak to her, and then turn away and go fixing up round the horses, and
then make another false start to say good-bye. At last she took Jim up
in her arms and kissed him, and lifted him on the wheel; but he put his
arms tight round her neck, and kissed her--a thing Jim seldom did
with anybody, except his mother, for he wasn't what you'd call an
affectionate child,--he'd never more than offer his cheek to me, in his
old-fashioned way. I'd got up the other side of the load to take him
from her.

'Here, take him,' she said.

I saw his mouth twitching as I lifted him. Jim seldom cried nowadays--no
matter how much he was hurt. I gained some time fixing Jim comfortable.

'You'd better make a st