Long windows clear to the floor opened into the living rooms and a wide hallway ran through the middle of the house. On one side was a drawing room, at the other, dining room and living room. The guests caught glimpses of books and music as they were ushered into their cool bedrooms. These opened on to the veranda and were cool and pleasant, with gay chintz and white hangings. What a delightful visit the children had at the run! It was perhaps pleasanter for them than for the grown folk, for Sandy, Mr. and Mrs. McDonald's only child, a boy of ten, was a perfect imp of mischief, and he led his two cousins into everything that he could think of. Fergus was not far behind, and Jean trudged after the boys, growing strong and rosy in the Australian sunshine. "Australia is making the greatest change in Jean," said her mother to Mrs. McDonald one day, as they sat upon the veranda. "At home she was so shy she would scarcely look at any one. She seemed delicate and I was worried for fear she would never learn to take care of herself in this world." "She will grow up into the most self-reliant kind of a girl in the Bush," said her sister. "She is a dear little girl and I think there is plenty of strength of character under her shy little ways." "I wonder what the three are doing now," said Jean's mother. "It has been some time since we heard a shriek of any kind--oh--what is that?" for as she spoke there came a scream so loud and piercing from the shrubbery that both women sprang to their feet and rushed across the lawn. Midway between the house and the garden they met the three children, both boys holding Jean's hands and helping her to run to the house, while the little girl, her face covered with blood and tears, was trying not to cry. "Jean's hurt," cried Sandy. "So I should judge," said his mother, trying to keep calm, while both boys began to talk at once, so that no one could understand a word they said. Mrs. Hume gathered Jean in her arms and carried her quickly to the house, where she washed the little, tear-stained face. The child's lip was terribly cut and she was badly frightened, but not seriously hurt, and as she cuddled down in her mother's arms she sighed, "Nice mother! I don't mind being hurt when you are here to fix me up." "Tell me what happened, dear," said her mother, as she stroked the fair hair. "We were playing," Jean said. "The boys had sticks and we heard a queer rustle in the bushes. Sandy said it was a snake and beat the bushes to drive him out. It ran out just in front of Fergus and I thought it would bite him, and I didn't want anything to happen to my brother so I ran up behind him just as he swung his stick over his shoulder to hit the snake. He hit me in the mouth, but of course he didn't mean to, Mother. I screamed because it hurt me so, and then I tried not to cry because I knew it would worry you. It doesn't hurt so badly now, Mother."