Besides, father had a way of starting to hammer us unexpectedly --
when the idea struck him. But father pulled himself up in about thirty yards
and started to grab up handfuls of dust and sand and throw them into the air.
My idea, in the first flash, was to get hold of the axe, for I thought
it was sun-stroke, and father might take it into his head to start chopping up
the family before I could persuade him to put it (his head, I mean)
in a bucket of water. But Joe came running like mad, yelling:

"`Swarmer -- bees! Swawmmer -- bee--ee--es! Bring -- a -- tin -- dish --
and -- a -- dippera -- wa-a-ter!'

"I ran with a bucket of water and an old frying-pan, and pretty soon
the rest of the family were on the spot, throwing dust and water,
and banging everything, tin or iron, they could get hold of.
The only bullock bell in the district (if it was in the district)
was on the old poley cow, and she'd been lost for a fortnight.
Mother brought up the rear -- but soon worked to the front --
with a baking-dish and a big spoon. The old lady -- she wasn't old then --
had a deep-rooted prejudice that she could do everything
better than anybody else, and that the selection and all on it
would go to the dogs if she wasn't there to look after it.
There was no jolting that idea out of her. She not only believed
that she could do anything better than anybody, and hers was
the only right or possible way, and that we'd do everything upside down
if she wasn't there to do it or show us how -- but she'd try
to do things herself or insist on making us do them her way,
and that led to messes and rows. She was excited now,
and took command at once. She wasn't tongue-tied, and had no impediment
in her speech.