had been put up. It bore evidence of recent erection, and
had replaced an old cockatoo fence which I remembered in my childhood.

"Fine fence, is it not? Eight wires, a top rail, and very stout posts.
Harry Beecham had that put up by contract this year. Twelve miles of it.
It cost him a lot: couldn't get any very low tenders, the ground being so
hard on account of the drought. Those trees are Five-Bob Downs--see, away
over against the range. But I suppose you know the places better than I
do."

We were now within an hour of our destination. How familiar were many
landmarks to me, although I had not seen them since I was eight years
old.

A river ran on our right, occasionally a glimmer of its noisy waters
visible through the shrubbery which profusely lined its banks. The short
evening was drawing to a close. The white mists brought by the rain were
crawling slowly down the hills, and settling in the hollows of the ranges
on our left. A V-shaped rift in them, known as Pheasant Gap, came into
view. Mr Hawden said it was well named, as it swarmed with lyrebirds.
Night was falling. The skreel of a hundred curlews arose from the
gullies--how I love their lonely wail!--and it was quite dark when we
pulled up before the front gate of Caddagat.

A score of dogs rushed yelping to meet us, the front door was thrown
open, lights and voices came streaming out.

I alighted from the buggy feeling rather nervous. I was a pauper with a
bad character. How would my grandmother receive me? Dear old soul, I had
nothing to fear. She folded me in a great warm-hearted hug, saying, "Dear
me, child, your face is cold. I'm glad you've come. It has been a
terrible day, but we're glad to have the rain. You must be frozen. Get in
to the fire, child, as fast as you can. Get in to the fire, get in to the
fire. I hope you forgive me for not going to meet you." And there was my
mother's only sister, my tall graceful aunt, standing beside her, giving
me a kiss and cordial hand-clasp, and saying, "Welcome, Sybylla. We will
be glad to have a young person to brighten up the old home once more. I
am sorry I was too unwell to meet you. You must be frozen; come to the
fire."

My aunt always spoke very little and very quietly, but there was
something in her high-bred style which went right home.

I could scarcely believe that they were addressing me. Surely they were
making a mistake. This reception was meant for some grand relative
honouring them w