Dad left the table, munching some bread, and went out to him.

Mother looked out of the door; Sal went to the window; Little Bill and Tom peeped through a crack; Dave remained at his dinner; and Joe knavishly seized the opportunity of exploring the table for leavings, finally seating himself in Dad's place, and commencing where Dad had left off.
"Jury summons," said the meek bailiff, extracting a paper from his breast-pocket, and reading, "Murtagh Joseph Rudd, selector, Shingle Hut...Correct ?" Dad nodded assent.
"Got any water ?" There was n't a drop in the cask, so Dad came in and asked Mother if there was any tea left.

She pulled a long, solemn, Sunday-school face, and looked at Joe, who was holding the teapot upside-down, shaking the tea-leaves into his cup.
"Tea, Dad ?" he chuckled--"by golly!" Dad did n't think it worth while going out to the bailiff again.

He sent Joe.
"Not any at all ?" "Nothink," said Joe.
"H'm! Nulla bona, eh ?" And the Law smiled at its own joke and went off thirsty.
Thus it was that Dad came to be away one day when his great presence of mind and ability as a bush doctor was most required at Shingle Hut.
Dave took Dad's place at the plough.

One of the horses--a colt that Dad bought with the money he got for helping with Anderson's crop--had only just been broken.