As Don could not answer this question it had to go unanswered, and
instead he waited in silence while the Irishwoman took her key from a
nail in the wall, and set off across her garden, which was only one
degree less untidy than the doctor's, to open the door for the children.

"Why, the others are bigger than you, most of them!" she exclaimed in
still growing amazement, as she surveyed the group standing by the head
of the horse. "The saints preserve us! What is the world coming to?"

Again Don had to let the question go unanswered, although it seemed to
him rather rude. The woman unlocked the door of the little wooden house,
which was plain and ugly, and did not even boast a veranda, then,
dropping a curtsy to Nealie, she stood back for them to enter.

CHAPTER XV

A Great Shock

There was a whirling confusion in the mind of Nealie as she crossed the
threshold and stood in the little room which was her father's home.

What a poor little place it was! There were only two rooms, the one upon
which the door opened, and which was evidently dining-room, kitchen, and
surgery rolled into one, and beyond this there was a bedroom, very bare
and poor, with an iron bedstead, on which was a mattress and some dark
rugs, but no sheets.

Coming straight as she did from the almost palatial comfort of the great
liner and the luxury of the Sydney hotel, this poor hut struck a real
note of dismay in the heart of Nealie, for the place was as poor as the
poorest cottage that she had ever seen at Beechleigh or Bodstead in
England.

But it was her father's home, and perhaps he had lived in such poverty
in order that he might have more money to send for the support of his
big family in England, and at the thought of this her heart grew
wondrously soft and pitiful, for she had no idea how very small was the
amount that her father had ever contributed to the support of his family
since disaster had fallen upon him.

While she stood looking round, her heart growing more and more pitiful
for the father whom she had come so far to see, Sylvia came bustling
into the house and took her by the arm, giving it a gentle shake.

"Dreaming, are you, dear? Come and help me lift Rupert out of the wagon,
and let us get him to bed as quickly as we can, for I am afraid that he
is dreadfully ill. Where are the bedrooms? Oh, what a dreadfully poky
little house it is!" and Miss Sylvia turned up the tip of her nose in
disdainful fashion.

"Syl