"Oh, you don't care -- you don't care! You don't feel it,
but I'm his mother, and ----"

"Oh, for God's sake, don't start that again, mother; it hurts me
more than you think. I'm his sister; I've suffered enough, God knows!
Don't make matters worse than they are!"

"Here comes father!" shouted one of the children outside,
"'n' he's bringing home a steer."

The old woman sat still, and clasped her hands nervously.
Mary tried to look cheerful, and moved the saucepan on the fire.
A big, dark-bearded man, mounted on a small horse, was seen in the twilight
driving a steer towards the cow-yard. A boy ran to let down the slip-rails.

Presently Mary and her mother heard the clatter of rails
let down and put up again, and a minute later a heavy step
like the tread of a horse was heard outside. The selector lumbered in,
threw his hat in a corner, and sat down by the table.
His wife rose and bustled round with simulated cheerfulness.
Presently Mary hazarded --

"Where have you been, father?"

"Somewheers."

There was a wretched silence, lasting until the old woman took courage
to say timidly:

"So you've brought a steer, Wylie?"