"But he was all right this morning?"
"Oh, yes."
"Where did he come from?"
She shook her head.
"Hadn't you better finish laying down the ferns," she said. "He may be back sooner than we think—and then you'll want to talk to him."
"Oh, yes!" He shuffled out of doors again.
A moment later he put his head in the window. His shabby, drooping hat was outlined against the blank of sunshine. His face looked in at her, under the shadow of his hat, bright with a question.
"What did he go to the Wirree for, Deirdre?"
"Oh!" She hesitated. "He wanted to see McNab."
"Why?"