e some people came to live on Lahey's
Creek, and besides, there was a young brother of Mary's--a young scamp
(his name was Jim, too, and we called him 'Jimmy' at first to make room
for our Jim--he hated the name 'Jimmy' or James). He came to live with
us--without asking--and I thought he'd find enough work at Lahey's
Creek to keep him out of mischief. He wasn't to be depended on much--he
thought nothing of riding off, five hundred miles or so, 'to have a look
at the country'--but he was fond of Mary, and he'd stay by her till I
got some one else to keep her company while I was on the road. He would
be a protection against 'sundowners' or any shearers who happened to
wander that way in the 'D.T.'s' after a spree. Mary had a married sister
come to live at Gulgong just before we left, and nothing would suit her
and her husband but we must leave little Jim with them for a month or
so--till we got settled down at Lahey's Creek. They were newly married.

Mary was to have driven into Gulgong, in the spring-cart, at the end
of the month, and taken Jim home; but when the time came she wasn't too
well--and, besides, the tyres of the cart were loose, and I hadn't time
to get them cut, so we let Jim's time run on a week or so longer, till I
happened to come out through Gulgong from the river with a small load of
flour for Lahey's Creek way. The roads were good, the weather grand--no
chance of it raining, and I had a spare tarpaulin if it did--I would
only camp out one night; so I decided to take Jim home with me.

Jim was turning three then, and he was a cure. He was so old-fashioned
that he used to frighten me sometimes--I'd almost think that there was
something supernatural about him; though, of course, I never took any
notice of that rot about some children being too old-fashioned to live.
There's always the ghoulish old hag (and some not so old nor haggish
either) who'll come round and shake up young parents with such croaks
as, 'You'll never rear that child--he's too bright for his age.' To the
devil with them! I say.

But I really thought that Jim was too intelligent for his age, and I
often told Mary that he ought to be kept back, and not let talk too much
to old diggers and long lanky jokers of Bushmen who rode in and hung
their horses outside my place on Sunday afternoons.

I don't believe in parents talking about their own children
everlastingly--you get sick of hearing them; and their kids are
generally little devils,