from thence. But the traffic did not require his own presence at the
city. So self-contained was the working of the establishment that he
was never called away by his business, unless he went to see some lot
of highly bred sheep which he might feel disposed to buy; and as for
pleasure, it had come to be altogether beyond the purpose of his life
to go in quest of that. When the work of the day was over, he would
lie at his length upon rugs in the veranda, with a pipe in his mouth,
while his wife sat over him reading a play of Shakspeare or the last
novel that had come to them from England.

He had married a fair girl, the orphan daughter of a bankrupt
squatter whom be had met in Sydney, and had brought her and her
sister into the Queensland bush with him. His wife idolized him. His
sister-in-law, Kate Daly, loved him dearly--as she had cause to do,
for he had proved himself to be a very brother to her; but she feared
him also somewhat. The people about the Mary said that she was fairer
and sweeter to look at even than the elder sister. Mrs. Heathcote was
the taller of the two, and the larger-featured. She certainly was the
higher in intellect, and the fittest to be the mistress of such an
establishment as that at Gangoil.

When he had washed his hands and face, and had swallowed the very
copious but weak allowance of brandy-and-water which his wife mixed
for him, he took the eldest boy on his lap and fondled him. "By
George!" he said, "old fellow, you sha'n't be a squatter."

"Why not, Harry?" asked his wife.

"Because I don't want him to break his heart every day of his life."