The Fizzer having brought down the walls of conventionality, the traveller-guests proffered greetings and sympathy through the material walls, after which we exchanged mail-news and general gossip for a day or two; then just as these travellers were preparing to exchange farewells, others came in and postponed the promised release.  As there seemed little hope of a lull in visitors, I was wondering if ever I should be considered well enough to entertain guests, when Fate once more interfered.

“Whatever’s this coming in from the East?” I heard the Maluka call in consternation, and in equal consternation his traveller-guest called back:  “Looks like a whole village settlement.”  Then Cheon burst into the room in a frenzy of excitement:  “Big mob traveller, missus.  Two-fellow-missus, sit down,” he began; but the Maluka was at his heels.

“Here’s two women and a mob of youngsters,” he gasped.  “I’m afraid you’ll have to get up, little ’un, and lend a hand with them.”

Afraid!  By the time the village settlement had “turned out” and found its way to the house, I was out in the open air welcoming its members with a heartiness that must have surprised them.  Little did they guess that they were angels unaware.  Homely enough angels, though, they proved, as angels unaware should prove:  one man and two women from “Queensland way,” who had been “inside” for fifteen years, and with them two fine young lads and a wee, toddling baby—­all three children born in the bush and leaving it for the first time.

Never before had Cheon had such a company to provide for; but as we moved towards the house in a body—­ourselves, the village settlement, and the Maluka’s traveller-guests, with a stockman traveller and the Dandy looking on from the quarters, his hospitable soul rejoiced at the sight; and by the time seats had been found for all comers, he appeared laden with tea and biscuits, and within half an hour had conjured up a plentiful dinner for all comers.

Fortunately the chairs were all “up” to the weight of the ladies, and the remainder of the company easily accommodated itself to circumstances, in the shape of sawn stumps, rough stools, and sundry boxes; and although the company was large and the dining-table small, and although, at times, we feared the table was about to fulfil its oft-repeated threat and fall over, yet the dinner was there to be enjoyed, and, being bush-folk, and hungry, our guests enjoyed it, passing over all incongruities with simple merriment—­a light-hearted, bubbling merriment, in no way comparable to that “laughter of fools,” that crackling of thorns under a pot, provoked by the incongruities of the world’s freak dinners.  The one is the heritage of the simple-hearted, and the other—­all the world has to give in exchange for this birthright.

The elder lads, one fourteen and one ten years of age, found Cheon by far the most entertaining incongruity at the dinner, and when dinner was over—­after we had settled down on the various chairs and stumps that had been carried out to the verandah again—­they shadowed him wherever he went.