"So they say, Mr. Heathcote. All the same, I shouldn't care how far
Georgie was away from any place I had to do with." Then the young
master and his old superintendent sauntered out to his back premises
to talk about sheep and fires, and plans for putting out fires. And
no doubt Mr. Bates had the glass of brandy-and-water which he had
come to regard as one of his Sunday luxuries. From the back premises
they went down to the creek to gauge the water. Then they sauntered
on, keeping always in the shade, sitting down here to smoke, and
standing up there to discuss the pedigree of some particular ram,
till it was past six.

"You may as well come in and dine with us, Mr. Bates," Harry
suggested, as they returned toward the station.

Mr. Bates said that he thought that he would. As the same invitation
was given on almost every Sunday throughout the year, and was
invariably answered in the same way, there was not much excitement in
this. But Mr. Bates would not have dreamed of going in to dinner
without being asked.

"That's Medlicot's trap," said Mr. Bates, as they entered the yard.
"I heard wheels when they were in the horse paddock."

Harry looked at the trap, and then went quickly into the house.

He walked with a rapid step onto the veranda, and there he found the
sugar grower and his mother. Mrs. Heathcote looked at her husband
almost timidly. She knew from the very sound of his feet that he was
perturbed in spirit. Under his own roof-tree he would certainly be
courteous; but there is a constrained courtesy very hard to be borne,