Andy got the packet half out of his pocket,
but shoved it back again.

'The only thing that hurts me now,' says Mrs Baker presently, 'is to
think of my poor husband buried out there in the lonely Bush, so far
from home. It's--cruel!' and she was sobbing again.

'Oh, that's all right, Mrs Baker,' said Andy, losing his head a little.
'Ned will see to that. Ned is going to arrange to have him brought down
and buried in Sydney.' Which was about the first thing Andy had told her
that evening that wasn't a lie. Ned had said he would do it as soon as
he sold his wool.

'It's very kind indeed of Ned,' sobbed Mrs Baker. 'I'd never have
dreamed he was so kind-hearted and thoughtful. I misjudged him all
along. And that is all you have to tell me about poor Robert?'

'Yes,' said Andy--then one of his 'happy thoughts' struck him. 'Except
that he hoped you'd shift to Sydney, Mrs Baker, where you've got friends
and relations. He thought it would be better for you and the children.
He told me to tell you that.'

'He was thoughtful up to the end,' said Mrs Baker. 'It was just like
poor Robert--always thinking of me and the children. We are going to
Sydney next week.'

Andy looked relieved. We talked a little more, and Miss Standish wanted
to make coffee for us, but we had to go and see to our horses. We got up
and bumped against each other, and got each other's hats, and promised
Mrs Baker we'd come again.

'Thank you very much for coming,' she said, shaking hands with us. 'I
feel much better now. You don't know how much you have relieved me. Now,
mind, you have promised to come and see me again for the last time.'

Andy caught her sister's eye and jerked his head towards the door to let
her know he wanted to speak to her outside.

'Good-bye, Mrs Baker,' he said, holding on to her hand. 'And don't you
fret. You've--you've got the children yet. It's--it's all for the best;
and, besides, the Boss said you wasn't to fret.' And he blundered out
after me and Miss Standish.

She came out to the gate with us, and Andy gave her the packet.

'I want you to give that to her,' he said; 'it's his letters and papers.
I hadn't the heart to give it to her, somehow.'

'Tell me, Mr M'Culloch,' she said. 'You've kept something back--you
haven't told her the truth. It would be better and safer for me to know.
Was it an accident--or the drink?'

'It was the drink,' said Andy. 'I was going to tell you--I thought it
would be best to tell you