And then, as she lay down, there came the old thought, the cruel thought — ah, if only she had money of her own.

A young man, immensely rich, has just arrived from England. He meets her quite by chance…. The new governor is unmarried…. There is a ball at Government house…. Who is that exquisite creature in eau-de-nil satin? Beryl Fairfield….

“The thing that pleases me,” said Stanley, leaning against the side of the bed and giving himself a good scratch on his shoulders and back before turning in, “is that I’ve got the place dirt cheap, Linda. I was talking about it to little Wally Bell to-day and he said he simply could not understand why they had accepted my figure. You see land about here is bound to become more and more valuable … in about ten years’ time … of course we shall have to go very slow and cut down expenses as fine as possible. Not asleep — are you?”

“No, dear, I’ve heard every word,” said Linda. He sprang into bed, leaned over her and blew out the candle.

“Good night, Mr Business Man,” said she, and she took hold of his head by the ears and gave him a quick kiss. Her faint faraway voice seemed to come from a deep well.

“Good night, darling.” He slipped his arm under her neck and drew her to him.

“Yes, clasp me,” said the faint voice from the deep well.

Pat the handyman sprawled in his little room behind the kitchen. His sponge-bag, coat and trousers hung from the door peg like a hanged man. From the edge of the blanket his twisted toes protruded, and on the floor beside him there was an empty cane bird-cage. He looked like a comic picture.

“Honk, honk,” came from the servant girl. She had adenoids.

Last to go to bed was the grandmother.

“What. Not asleep yet?”

“No, I’m waiting for you,” said Kezia. The old woman sighed and lay down beside her. Kezia thrust her head under her grandmother’s arm and gave a little squeak. But the old woman only pressed her faintly, and sighed again, took out her teeth and put them in a glass of water beside her on the floor.

In the garden some tiny owls, perched on the branches of a lace-bark tree, called: “More pork: more pork.” And far away in the bush there sounded a harsh rapid chatter: “Ha-ha-ha … Ha-ha-ha.”

V

Dawn came sharp and chill with red clouds on a faint green sky and drops of water on every leaf and blade. A breeze blew over the garden, dropping dew and dropping petals, shivered over the drenched paddocks, and was lost in the sombre bush. In the sky some tiny stars floated for a moment and then they were gone — they were dissolved like bubbles. And plain to be heard in the early quiet was the sound of the creek in the paddock running over the brown stones, running in and out of the sandy hollows, hiding under clumps of dark berry bushes, spilling into a swamp of yellow water flowers and cresses.

And then at the first beam of sun the birds began. Big cheeky birds, starlings and mynahs, whistled on the lawns, the little birds, the goldfinches and linnets and fantails flicked from bough to bough. A lovely kingfisher perched on the paddock fence preening his rich beauty, and a tui sang his three notes and laughed and sang them again.

“How loud the birds are,” said Linda in her dream. She was walking with her father through a green paddock sprinkled with daisies. Suddenly he bent down and parted the grasses and showed her a tiny ball of fluff just at her feet. “Oh, Papa, the darling.” She made a cup of her hands and caught the tiny bird and stroked its head with her finger. It was quite tame. But a funny thing happened. As she stroked it began to swell, it ruffled and pouched, it grew bigger and bigger and its round eyes seemed to smile knowingly at her. Now her arms were hardly wide enough to hold it and she dropped it into her apron.