Page:On Our Selection.djvu/171

Rh nonsense, and, to speak the truth" (lowering his voice again) "I've been sick of the whole damn thing long ago."

A minute or two passed.

"It would n't matter," Dad continued, "if there was no way of doing better; but there is. The thing only requires to be done, and why not do it?" He paused for an answer.

"Well," Dave said, "let us commence it straight off—t'morror. It's the life that'd suit me."

"Of course it would . . . and there's money in it . . . no mistake about it!"

A few minutes passed. Then they went inside, and Dad took Mother into his confidence, and they sat up half the night discussing the scheme.

Twelve months later. The storekeeper was at the house wanting to see Dad. Dad wasn't at home. He never was when the storekeeper came; he generally contrived to be away, up the paddock somewhere or amongst the corn—if any was growing. The storekeeper waited an hour or so, but Dad did n't turn up. When he was gone, though, Dad walked in and asked Mother what he had said. Mother was seated on the sofa, troubled-looking.

"He must be paid by next week," she said, bursting into tears, "or the place 'll be sold over our heads."

Dad stood with his back to the fire-place, his hands locked behind him, watching the flies swarming on the table.