“It’s not so heavy as my box,” he smiled.
“But it saves carrying that,” she said happily.
“How do you mean?”
“That’s your farm in there—your English farm! Australia is off.” She enjoyed his obvious fear that the scene in the hut had been too much for her brain. “Goose!” she cried. “Goose with the golden eggs. Just take a peep.”
“There’s only your jug and teapot.” He was more mystified than ever.
But her happiness waned again when the riddle was read.
“You surely don’t expect me to pocket your money,” he said, as soon as his slower brain had taken in the situation.
“Oh, Will! Surely what is mine is yours!”
“Not at all. What is mine is yours.”
“But that’s what I said.”