“Yes, is it not unfair?” said Tommy. “I told Bob I was a mere encumbrance, but he would bring me.”
“You wait until you've settled, and Bob wants some one to run his house, and then see how much of an encumbrance you are,” rejoined Jim. “Then you'll suddenly stop being meek and get swelled head.”
“And not be half so nice,” interjected Bob.
“But so useful!” said Tommy demurely. “Only sometimes I become afraid—for you seem always to kill a whole sheep or bullock up in the bush, and how I am to deal with it I do not know!”
“It sounds as if you preferred some one to detach an occasional limb from the sheep as it walked about!” said Jim, laughing.
“Much easier for me—if not for the sheep,” said Tommy.
“Well, don't you worry—the meat problem will get settled somehow,” Jim told her cheerfully. “All problems straighten out, if you give 'em time. Now we're nearly home—that's the fence of our home-paddock. And there are Norah and Wally coming to meet you.”
“Oh—where?” Tommy started up, looking excitedly round the landscape. “Oh—there she is—the dear! And isn't that a beautiful horse!”
“That's Norah's special old pony, Bosun,” said Jim. “We're making her very unhappy by telling her she's grown too big for him, but he really carries her like a bird. A habit might look too much on him, but not that astride kit. You got yours, by the way, Tommy, I hope?”
“Oh yes. I look very strange in it,” said Tommy. “And Bob thinks I might as well have worn out his old uniforms. But I shall never ride like that—as Norah does.”