"But we can't take up your time and 'Possum's without paying you," Tom said. "I know how valuable a man's time is."
Mr. O'Connor exhibited symptoms of impatience.
"Now, look here," he said. "You're neighbours; an' for five years we haven't had not what you could call a neighbour on this place. Nobody's very proud about here, but we do get full up of a man like ol' Gordon, who thinks himself too good to speak to any poor Australian. You ain't that sort, an' we're jolly glad to have you. If I needed advice about buyin' things in the city, wouldn't you give it to me?"
"Like a shot," said Tom. "But——"
"Well, thank goodness, I don't!" said Mr. O'Connor, pursuing his argument. "But I'll come to you when I need a lot of shares, or a swaller-tail coat an' hat, or anything fancy like that. Meanwhile, if you won't let us advise you about things like calves and spuds, where's the fairness come in? I've said I'll let you pay me for the ploughin', 'cause it's cheaper for you to do it that way than to buy an outfit an' start learnin' to use it. But the rest is on'y bein' neighbours. So s'pose we don't say any more about it. Eh, son—would you like to learn to be a farmer?"
"Rather!" said Garth, with shining eyes. "Am I big enough?"
"Oh, you're quite big enough for a start. I'll tell 'Possum to keep an eye on you." He rose, knocking the ashes from his pipe. "Well, they'll be waiting tea for me: I must get along home." He shook hands all round. "We'll make good Gippslanders of you in no time," he said. "Jolly nice drop o' rain we've had this last week, isn't it?—good thing for your ploughin', Mr. Macleod. Well, so long!" He was gone.
"Didn't I tell you he was a jolly decent sort of chap?" Garth said. "And he is, too!"
CHAPTER IX
"MAGGIE OR SOMETHING"