'It's for the House,' cried the child.

'Fo Wung said I was to bring it up.' Lady Bridget made a wry face--she did not like pawpaws.
'Very well, Tommy, and if you're good you can have what's left tomorrow.' 'That's all right,' responded Tommy in bush formula.
'Have you seen anything of your master--or the postman ?' asked Lady Bridget of Mrs Hensor.
'I believe Mr McKeith is coming on ahead with Harry the Blower,' said Mrs Hensor.

'Look sharp, Tommy, the cattle will be at the yard directly, and I've got my dinner to cook for the whole lot of them, seeing that some visitors aren't good enough for the house.' The woman pointed her last sentence by a malicious glance at the mistress of Moongarr.
'I suppose that is what your master keeps you here for--to cook for the visitors at the Quarters, Mrs Hensor,' said Lady Bridget, with incisive sweetness.
Mrs Hensor flushed scarlet, but she checked an impudent reply.

Pulling Tommy angrily along, she hurried up to the four-roomed, zinc-roofed humpey and its lean-to kitchen, protected by a bough shade, which lay between the head-station and the gully, with the stockyard close to it, and which constituted her domain.

It annoyed Mrs Hensor to hear McKeith called her master.