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"So you will an' all, Dad."

And then Mr. Ellis, as if desperate to change the conversation, pulling hard at his pipe:

"Jersey cow calved?"

"Yes."

"Bull again?"

"No, heifer. Beauty."

They both smiled silently. Then Tom's tongue suddenly was loose.

"Little beauty, she is. And the Berkshire has farrowed nine little prize-winners. Cowslip came on with 'er butter since she come on to the barley. I cot them twins Og an' Magog peltin' the dogs with eggs, an' them so scarce, so I wopped 'em both. That black spaniel bitch, I had to kill her for she worried one o' the last batch o' sucking pigs, though I don't know how she come to do such a thing. I've finished fallowin' in the bottom meadow, an' I'm glad you're back to tell us what to get on wif."

"How's clearing in th' Long Mile Paddock?"

"Only bin down there once. Sam's doin' all right."

"Hear anything of the Gum Tree Gully clearing gang?"

"Message from Spencer, an' y' t'go down some time—as soon's y' can."

"Well, I want the land reclaimed this year, an' I want it gone on with. Never know what'll happen, Tom. I'd like for you to go down there, Tom. You c'n take th' young feller behind here with you, soon's the girls come home."