It's always the way here, the more one does the more he's wanted to do," and he commenced to cry.
Mrs.Brown had something to say.

SHE agreed with Dad and thought we ought to go, as the wheat might spring up again.
"Pshah!" Dave blurted out between his sobs, while we thought of telling her to shut her mouth.
Slowly and reluctantly we left that roaring fireside to accompany Dad that bitter night.

It WAS a night!--dark as pitch, silent, forlorn and forbidding, and colder than the busiest morgue.

And just to keep wallabies from eating nothing! They HAD eaten all the wheat--every blade of it--and the grass as well.

What they would start on next--ourselves or the cart-harness--was n't quite clear.
We stumbled along in the dark one behind the other, with our hands stuffed into our trousers.