The farm showed signs of paying.  Fruit and vegetables brought in a small but steady income, and as fast as one crop was exhausted another was sown.  Ignorance and brains combined do not make a bad working outfit.  Tom Macleod knew his limitations, and was thankful for Nick O’Connor’s guidance and ’Possum’s helping hand; but in addition he read widely on farming matters, studied his land, and sent samples of the different soils to Melbourne for analysis.  Expert advice as to manures came back; and since his business training had taught him what many farmers never learn—that it is wise to spend money in order to gather it—he bought artificial fertilizers for his land and food for his calves, and already had some reward in the promise of heavy crops and in sleek, quickly-growing animals.  It left them with very little money to spend.  But then, it was comforting that there was not much chance of spending.  The farm gave them butter and milk and cream, fresh eggs and chickens, fruit and vegetables and honey. One pig had already been converted into pork and bacon, under the direction of Mr. O’Connor; another promised a further supply for the winter.  The lake was close at hand, swarming with fish; occasionally a rabbit fell to Tom’s gun, and there were visions of duck-shooting ahead.  Garth and Aileen scarcely ate meat at all: Tom ate less than he had ever done, and felt all the better for his change of food.  Except for their modest supply of groceries, there was little need to spend.