Mother and Sal felt it such a comfort to have a man in the house--even if it was only Joe.
Joe was proud of his male prerogatives.

He looked after the selection, minded the corn, kept Anderson's and Dwyer's and Brown's and old Mother Murphy's cows out of it, and chased goannas away from the front door the same as Dad used to do--for Joe felt that he was in Dad's place, and postponed his customary familiarities with the goannas.
It was while Joe was in charge that Casey came to our place.

A starved-looking, toothless little old man with a restless eye, talkative, ragged and grey; he walked with a bend in his back (not a hump), and carried his chin in the air.

We never saw a man like him before.

He spoke rapidly, too, and watched us all as he talked.