"I see," said Mr. Warner, inwardly wondering why the mare seemed to have failed to interest his daughter. "Well, shall we have a look round now?"
They left the horses to O'Mara, and went down the hill to the creek, where an hydraulic ram conserved the flow of the water and ensured an ample supply for the household. There was a great storage dam—a miniature lake, indeed, whereon swam many strange waterfowl. A dinghy was moored to a tiny landing stage, and there was a bathing box, with a good spring-board projecting over the deepest part. The lake was fringed with trees. Beyond them was the vegetable garden, where a stolid Chinaman gave them a friendly greeting, as he worked among his well-tended beds; and then came a high green hedge, through a gateway in which they passed to the wide lawns and gay flower beds surrounding the house itself. Everywhere there were great trees, and the whole impression was of space and shade and beauty. A tennis court, where the twinses and Bobby were playing a tennis of their own, with forgotten balls, lay to the east; the players uttered loud shrieks of joy at the sight of the new-comers, and fled to meet them, pursued by their protesting black nurse. Thereafter the tour continued, with Bobby clinging to Dick's hand, and with Mr. Warner and Mr. Lester each in undisputed possession of a twin, while nanna followed disconsolately in the rear.
"It's a rambling old place," Mr. Warner said. "We began with two rooms, and every drop of water had to be carried up from the creek in buckets. The windmills do it all now, and I've an oil engine that pumps our supply if the wind fails us."
"You added a good bit to your two rooms," said Mr. Lester, laughing.
"Well—rather. Of course, there's no architecture about it; we just planted rooms wherever we needed them. That big shed is for the black girls; the men have a camp on the other side of the creek. That"—he pointed with his pipe stem—"is Macleay's cottage; the store is close by. The building connecting with the house by that covered gallery is the children's special preserve—school-room, play-room and den. They can make as much noise there as they like—and they generally do! That's the barracks—the bachelors' quarters—beyond the tennis court. I've generally two or three jackeroos on the place, and there are beds there for any stray man who happens along. The stock yards are on the far side of the stables; I'm a bit proud of my yards. The forge and blacksmith's store are near them. The new-looking building is, of course, the garage; the car is a recent toy."
"Do you like it better than horses, Mr. Warner?" queried Dick.
"No," said his host, explosively. "I wouldn't give my old Conqueror for a dozen cars! Still, it makes a tremendous difference; we really were pretty well cut off from civilisation before we had it. As it is we seldom get a mail more than once a fortnight, and our stores come up twice a year, by bullock wagons or donkey teams. But we can get down to the railway fairly easily now, if we want to, and we can get a doctor in eight or ten hours. That feeling makes life much easier to a woman."
Mr. Lester pulled at his pipe.
"Do you reflect, Dick," he said, "that we've been accustomed to think ourselves quite in the country at Kurrajong?"
"My word, yes!" said Dick. "Three miles out—and we reckon we're bush whackers! Makes you feel small, doesn't it, father?"