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?”
“Yes!” he snapped; the tone seemed defiant.
The old woman’s hands trembled, so that she dropped a cup. Mary turned a shade paler.
“Here, git me some tea. Git me some TEA!” shouted Mr. Wylie. “I ain’t agoin’ to sit here all night!”
His wife made what haste her nervousness would allow, and they soon sat down to tea. Jack, the eldest son, was sulky, and his father muttered something about knocking the sulks out of him with an axe.
“What’s annoyed you, Jack?” asked his mother, humbly.
He scowled and made no answer.
The younger children—three boys and a girl—began quarrelling as soon as they sat down. Wylie yelled at them now and then, and grumbled at the cooking, and at his wife for not being able to keep the children quiet. It was: “Marther! you didn’t put no sugar in my tea.” “Mother, Jimmy’s got my place; make him move.” “Mawther! do speak to
