When the
last of it was disappearing Mother became uneasy again. So did Dad. He
stared through the window at the parson's sleepy-looking horse, fastened
to the fence. Dad wished to heaven it would break away, or drop dead, or
do anything to provide him with an excuse to run out. But it was a
faithful steed. It stood there leaning on its forehead against a post.
There was a brief silence.
Then the minister joked about his appetite--at which only Joe could afford
to smile--and asked, "May I trouble you for just another scone?"
Mother muttered something like "Yes, of course," and went out to the
kitchen just as if there had been some there. Dad was very uncomfortable.
He patted the floor with the flat of his foot and wondered what would
happen next. Nothing happened for a good while. The minister sipped and
sipped his tea till none was left...
Dad said: "I'll see what's keeping her," and rose--glad if ever man was
glad--to get away. He found Mother seated on the ironbark table in the
kitchen. They did n't speak. They looked at each other sympathisingly.
"Well?" Dad whispered at last; "what are you going to do?" Mother shook
her head.
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