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- Колин Маккалоу
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It
was
impossible
to
put
the
dray
or
anything
else
wheeled
upon
the
mud
;
in
the
end
Jack
and
old
Tom
chained
a
sheet
of
corrugated
iron
behind
two
draft
horses
,
Tom
leading
the
team
on
a
stock
horse
while
Jack
rode
ahead
with
the
biggest
lamp
Drogheda
possessed
.
Meggie
stayed
at
the
homestead
and
sat
in
front
of
the
drawing
room
fire
while
Mrs.
Smith
tried
to
persuade
her
to
eat
,
tears
running
down
her
face
to
see
the
girl
's
still
,
silent
shock
,
the
way
she
did
not
weep
.
At
the
sound
of
the
front
door
knocker
she
turned
and
went
to
answer
it
,
wondering
who
on
earth
had
managed
to
get
through
the
mud
,
and
as
always
astonished
at
the
speed
with
which
news
traveled
the
lonely
miles
between
the
far-flung
homesteads
.
Father
Ralph
was
standing
on
the
veranda
,
wet
and
muddy
,
in
riding
clothes
and
oilskins
.
"
May
I
come
in
,
Mrs.
Smith
?
"
"
Oh
,
Father
,
Father
!
"
she
cried
,
and
threw
herself
into
his
astounded
arms
.
"
How
did
you
know
?
"
"
Mrs.
Cleary
telegrammed
me
,
a
manager-to-owner
courtesy
I
appreciated
very
much
.
I
got
leave
to
come
from
Archbishop
di
Contini-Verchese
.
What
a
mouthful
!
Would
you
believe
I
have
to
say
it
a
hundred
times
a
day
?
I
flew
up
.
The
plane
bogged
as
it
landed
and
pitched
on
its
nose
,
so
I
knew
what
the
ground
was
like
before
I
so
much
as
stepped
on
it
.
Dear
,
beautiful
Gilly
!
I
left
my
suitcase
with
Father
Watty
at
the
presbytery
and
cadged
a
horse
from
the
Imperial
publican
,
who
thought
I
was
crazy
and
bet
me
a
bottle
of
Johnnie
Walker
Black
Label
I
'd
never
get
through
the
mud
.
Oh
,
Mrs.
Smith
,
do
n't
cry
so
!
My
dear
,
the
world
has
n't
come
to
an
end
because
of
a
fire
,
no
matter
how
big
and
nasty
it
was
!
"
he
said
,
smiling
and
patting
her
heaving
shoulders
.
"
Here
am
I
doing
my
best
to
make
light
of
it
,
and
you
're
just
not
doing
your
best
to
respond
.
Do
n't
cry
so
,
please
.
"
"
Then
you
do
n't
know
,
"
she
sobbed
.
"
What
?
Know
what
?
What
is
it
--
what
's
happened
?
"
"
Mr.
Cleary
and
Stuart
are
dead
.
"
