"How was it that she had never seen him?"
"Married her mother; went away to sea, and never heard of since."
"How old is the child?"
"Five years, I should say."
"If you knew," said Joshua in a slow trembling voice, "what a chord you have touched in my heart, you would pity me. Forgive me for my strange manner, and answer me. The mother who has lost a son; describe her."
"An angel. I'm not good at picking faces to pieces; but when I look at her, she reminds me of my own mother, dead and gone this many a year. Never thinks of herself; always putting herself out for other people--bless her old face! And yet she's not so old, although her hair is nearly white--that's from grief."
"The father who lost a son?"
"A fine fellow; a little self-willed and obstinate; a wood-turner."
A long, long silence. The mail-driver did not break it, nor did he intrude upon his companion's thoughts. "Twit-twit-twit!" came from the throats of some diamond sparrows, which were flitting among the gum-tree branches and a flock of scarlet lowry parrots floated through the bush that lined the road on either side, their wonderfully-gorgeous plumage lighting up the dark trees with brilliant light.
"The wife that lost a husband, and the friend that lost a friend?"