No more it did, it only called the child the daughter of Henry and Caroline Field, and the surname was omitted in the bequest. “Who was the mother?” asked Lance. “I never exactly knew. Fulbert thought she had been a person whom Field had met in America or somewhere, and married in a hurry. Fulbert said she was rather pretty, but she was a poor helpless, bewildered thing, and very poorly. He wanted to bring her to Albertstown for fit help and nursing; but she cried so much at the idea of either horse or wagon over the-no-roads, that it was put off and off and she had only his shepherd’s housekeeper, so it was no wonder she did not live! Field was dreadfully cut up, and blamed himself extremely for having given way to her; but it is as likely as not the journey would have been just as fatal.” “Poor thing!” “You never heard her surname?” “No, it did not signify.” “He did not name his child after her?” “No. I remember Fulbert saying he supposed she should be called Caroline; and he exclaimed, ‘No, no, I always said it should be Magdalen and Susanna.’” “My sister’s name,” repeated Agatha. “And Susan Merrifield,” added Dolores. “But she is mine, mine!” cried Angela, with a tone like herself, of a sort of triumphant jealousy. “They can’t take her away from me!” “Gently, Angela, my dear,” said Lance, in a tone so like Felix of old, that it almost startled her. “Tell me what arrangement is this about the property. Your share of Fulbert’s has never been taken out, I think?” “No, Macpherson, the purchaser, you know, of Fulbert’s share, pays me my amount out of it, and agreed to do the same by Lena. I don’t think the value is quite what it used to be. It rather went down under Field; but Macpherson is all there, and it has been a better season. I could sell it all to him, hers and mine both; but I have thought how it would be, as it is her native country, and I have not parted with my own to go out again to Carrigaboola, and bring her up there. I assure you I am up to it,” she added, meeting an amused look. “I know a good deal more about sheep farming than either of you gentlemen. I can ride anything but a buckjumper, and boss the shepherds, and I do love the life, no stifling in fields and copses! I only wish you would come too, Bear; it would do you ever so much good to get a little red paint on those white banker’s hands of yours.” “Well done, sister Angel!” And the brothers both burst out laughing. “But really,” proceeded Angela, “it is by far the best hope of keeping up Christianity among those hands. Fulbert had a sort of little hut for a chapel, and once a month one of the clergy from Albertstown came over there; I used to ride with him when I could, and if I were there, I could keep a good deal going till the place is more peopled, and we can get a cleric. It is a great opportunity, not to be thrown away. I can catch those cockatoos better than a parson. And there are the blacks.”