Mac was dazzled with the books. "Hadn't seen so many together since he
was a nipper"; and after we had introduced him to our favourites, we
played with our new toys like a parcel of children, until supper time.
When supper was over we lit the lamp, and shutting doors and windows,
shut the Sanguine Scot in with us, and made believe we were living once
more within sound of the rumble of a great city. Childish behaviour, no
doubt, but to be expected from folk who can find entertainment in the
going to bed of fowls; but when the heart is happy it forgets to grow
old.
"A lighted lamp and closed doors, and the outside world is what you will
it to be," the Maluka theorised, and to disprove it Mac drew attention to
the distant booming of the bells that swung from the neck of his grazing
bullocks.
"The city clocks," we said. "We hear them distinctly at night."
But the night was full of sounds all around the homestead, and Mac,
determined to mock, joined in with the "Song of the Frogs."
"Quart pot! Qua-rt-pot!" he croaked, as they sang outside in rumbling
monotone.
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