nothing but her last trouble, till her visits were painful to look
forward to.

'If it only could have been kep' quiet--for the sake of the other
children; they are all I think of now. I tried to bring 'em all up
decent, but I s'pose it was my fault, somehow. It's the disgrace that's
killin' me--I can't bear it.'

I was at home one Sunday with Mary and a jolly Bush-girl named Maggie
Charlsworth, who rode over sometimes from Wall's station (I must tell
you about her some other time; James was 'shook after her'), and we got
talkin' about Mrs Spicer. Maggie was very warm about old Wall.

'I expected Mrs Spicer up to-day,' said Mary. 'She seems better lately.'

'Why!' cried Maggie Charlsworth, 'if that ain't Annie coming running up
along the creek. Something's the matter!'

We all jumped up and ran out.

'What is it, Annie?' cried Mary.

'Oh, Mrs Wilson! Mother's asleep, and we can't wake her!'

'What?'

'It's--it's the truth, Mrs Wilson.'

'How long has she been asleep?'

'Since lars' night.'

'My God!' cried Mary, 'SINCE LAST NIGHT?'

'No, Mrs Wilson, not all the time; she woke wonst, about daylight this
mornin'. She called me and said she didn't feel well, and I'd have to
manage the milkin'.'

'Was that all she said?'

'No. She said not to go for you; and she said to feed the pigs and
calves; and she said to be sure and water them geraniums.'

Mary wanted to go, but I wouldn't let her. James and I saddled our
horses and rode down the creek.

*****

Mrs Spicer looked very little different from what she did when I last
saw her alive. It was some time before we could believe that she was
dead. But she was 'past carin'' right enough.

A Double Buggy at Lahey's Creek.

I. Spuds, and a Woman's Obstinacy.

Ever since we were married it had been Mary's great ambition to have a
buggy. The house or furniture didn't matter so much--out there in the
Bush where we were--but, where there were no railways or coaches, and
the roads were long, and mostly hot and dusty, a buggy was the great
thing. I had a few pounds when we were married, and was going to get
one then; but new buggies went high, and another party got hold of a
second-hand one that I'd had my eye on, so Mary thought it over and at
last she said, 'Never mind the buggy, Joe; get a sewing-machine and I'll
be satisfied. I'll want the machine more than the buggy, for a while.
Wait till we're better off.'

After that, whenever I