a cottage in Burwood, Sydney, and struggling through the winter on
what she'd saved from the money her father left her.

"I got a shave and dressed up quiet and decent. I was older-looking
and more subdued like, and I'd got pretty grey in those few years that
I'd been making a fool of myself; and, some how, I felt rather glad
about it, because I reckoned she'd notice it first thing--she was
always quick at noticing things--and forgive me all the quicker.
Well, I waylaid the school kids that evening, and found out mine--a
little boy and a girl--and fine youngsters they were. The girl took
after her mother, and the youngster was the dead spit o' me. I gave
'em half a crows each and told them to tell their mother that someone
would come when the sun went down."

Bogan Bill nodded approvingly.

"So at sundown I went and knocked at the door. It opened and there
stood my little wife looking prettier than ever--only careworn."

Long, impressive pause.

"Well, Jack, what did she do?" asked Bogan.

"She didn't do nothing."

"Well, Jack, and what did she say?"

Jack sighed and straightened himself up: "She said--she said--'Well,
so you've come back.'"