missus," as he phrased it, and certainly bringing the "commodious station
home" about her ears, which was just as well, perhaps.

After a few scathing remarks on the homestead in general, which he called
"One of those down-at-the-heels, anything-'ll-do sort of places," he
described The House. "It's mostly verandahs and promises," he said; "but
one room is finished. We call it The House, but you'll probably call it
a Hut, even though it has got doors and calico windows framed and on
hinges."

Then followed an inventory of the furniture. "There's one fairly steady,
good-sized table at least it doesn't fall over, unless some one leans on
it; then there's a bed with a wire mattress, but nothing else on it; and
there's a chair or two up to your weight (the boss'll either have to
stand up or lie down), and I don't know that there's much else excepting
plenty of cups and plates--they're enamel, fortunately, so you won't
have much trouble with the servants breaking things. Of course there's a
Christmas card and a few works of art on the walls for you to look at
when you're tired of looking at yourself in the glass. Yes! There's a
looking-glass--goodness knows how it got there! You ought to be thankful
for that and the wire-mattress. You won't find many of them out bush ."

I humbly acknowledged thankfulness, and felt deeply grateful to Mine
Host, when, with ready thoughtfulness he brought a couple of china cups
and stood them among the baggage--the heart of Mine Host was as warm and
sincere as his flashing smiles. I learned, in time, to be indifferent to
china cups, but that flat-iron became one of my most cherished
possessions--how it got to the Katherine is a long, long story, touching
on three continents, a man, a woman, and a baby.