“Go on! Is that a yarn?”
“No, it isn’t. It’s plain truth. An’ everywhere you could see cattle and sheep, thick as anything, an’ all rolling fat. ’Cept the stores, of course.”
“What’s stores?”
“Cattle that aren’t fat,” said Billy, in blank amazement at such ignorance. “They’re stores when you buy ’em first, an’ then you put ’em on good paddocks an’ watch ’em fatten. Then you sell ’em for heaps of money.”
“Is that how your father gets his living?”
“Yes, of course it is.”
“Then how does he get a living now?”
“He doesn’t,” said Billy simply.
“Well, but . . . but . . . he’s going on living, isn’t he, silly?”
“Oh, well, you don’t expect him to turn up his toes an’ die as soon as a drought comes,” Billy said, laughing. “Of course, every one has money in Banks and things. That’s what Banks are for. You stick money in ’em when times are good, and then there’s something to live on when they’re bad.”