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           NotallstationswereasgenerousasDroghedawastoitsshearers,butDroghedaprideditselfonitshospitality,anditsreputationasa"bloodygoodshed."ForthiswastheoneactivityinwhichMaryCarsonparticipated,soshedidn’tstintherpurse.NotonlywasitoneofthebiggestshedsinNewSouthWales,butitrequiredtheverybestmentobehad,menoftheJackieHowecaliber;overthreehundredthousandsheepwouldbeshorntherebeforetheshearersloadedtheirswagsintothecontractor’soldFordtruckanddisappeareddownthetracktotheirnextshed.

           Frankhadnotbeenhomefortwoweeks.WitholdBeerbarrelPetethestockman,ateamofdogs,twostockhorsesandalightsulkyattachedtoanunwillingnagtoholdtheirmodestneeds,theyhadsetoutforthefarwesternpaddockstobringthesheepin,workingthemcloserandcloser,cullingandsorting.Itwasslow,tediouswork,nottobecomparedwiththatwildmusterbeforethefloods.Eachpaddockhaditsownstock-yards,inwhichsomeofthegradingandmarkingwouldbedoneandthemobshelduntilitwastheirturntocomein.Theshearingshedyardsaccommodatedonlytenthousandsheepatatime,solifewouldn’tbeeasywhiletheshearerswerethere;itwouldbeaconstantflurryofexchangingmobs,unshornforshorn.

           WhenFranksteppedintohismother’skitchenshewasstandingbesidethesinkatanever-endingjob,peelingpotatoes.

           "Mum,I’mhome!"hesaid,joyinhisvoice.

           Assheswungaroundherbellyshowed,andhistwoweeksawaylenthiseyesaddedperception.