beautifully clean cows descending in its double
stream, _quisk_--_whish_, and frothing up in the white pail.

"Take some in to White Mary soon," said Samson, and the man raised his
shining black face and grinned.

"I say, why do you say White Mary?" asked Nic, as they left the
cow-shed. "Who's she?"

"Because you've got to talk to them blackfellows so's they can
understand you, sir. White Mary's white woman to them. He's going to
take the pails as he fills 'em in to Miss Janet: she sees to the dairy.
And Miss Hilda, she's White Mary too, and so's your mar."

"Oh," said Nic thoughtfully. "Now then, I want to see the horses."

"Which? those on the run or in the stable?"

"On the run?"

"Yes. They're miles away, and you'd want to ride."

"Well, in the stable."

"This way, then; but won't you come and see my garden first? I've got
real apple trees a-growing."

"I'll see the garden after. I want to look how Sour Sorrel is."

"Fresh as a daisy, sir."

"I want to feed him."

"You should have got up sooner, Mister Nic. I fed the horses more'n
hour ago, and rubbed 'em down. Do you like Sorrel?" said Samson,
showing his teeth.

"Like him!" cried Nic, with a voice intense in its appreciation.

"That's right, sir. I bred him speshly for you, Master Nic. He was to
be for you, and you won't ride him too hard, will you?"

"Why, it would be a sin!" cried Nic.

"Sin ain't half bad enough word for it, sir," cried the old man. "Any
one as'd hurt a horse with a temper like Sorrel, and such a willin'
heart, ud do anything wicked, I don't care what it is. Why, I don't
believe even a lifer ud do that."

"What's a lifer?" asked Nic.

"Transported for life, sir."

"Oh yes, I remember now," said Nic, as they turned into the long wooden
stable. "Ah, father! you up already?"

"'Morning, Nic, my boy. Oh yes, we are early birds here. Been round
the farm?"

"Yes, some of it. He has been showing me."

"Well, do you think you can be content with our rough life?"

"Oh, I say, father!" cried Nic protestingly, "don't talk to me like
that! Like it? Everything seems too good. Why, I love it already."

"Don't be too enthusiastic, my boy," said the doctor, clapping him on
the shoulder. "It is not all bliss. See what a journey it is to
civilisation."

"Bother civilisation!" cried Nic. "That means me being away from home
with people who don't care for me."

"You should make people care for you," said t