that the four children flocked round, staring with all their eyes, but my welcome was of the heartiest. Mrs. Macpherson seized my hand and drew me forcibly into the room, as though she thought I might vanish if she did not hold me fast. She set the children to wash up and prepare tea and scones for us, and while she rocked her seven-weeks-old baby, talked to me and to the children sixteen to the dozen!
At length I was able to explain to her what we wanted. Yes, bread and butter, milk and cream, she could give in plenty—meat they rarely had, and the hens were not doing well; but she would save all the eggs for us during our stay. The little boy ran out and brought in four, just new laid. He was a solemn little man, but his sisters were rosy-faced, pleasant little lasses, always laughing, and already able to do most of the work for their mother—“and milk, too,” as she told me with pride. Her husband works for Government at road-making, and is often away a fortnight or more at a time; and these children, the eldest only twelve, with their mother, did all the work of the farm.
Mrs. Macpherson explained to me she was growing deaf, and “Macpherson” was worse. “It’s the roaring of the creeks,” she said; “sometimes I think I’ll go mad, and I know I’m going deaf. I’ve stood there by the door on a spring morning when the snows are melting, and I’ve counted forty waterfalls, and the roar of them
