Garth loved the gullies.  Now that Mother and Daddy were so busy all day there was much time on his hands.  A small boy of seven cannot always help, no matter how willing he may be; there were times when all his jobs—and they were many—were done, and he was free to wander off into the paddocks, where the cool fern-glades were storehouses of wonder for the little city lad.  Books were forbidden him nowadays; but his brain held old stories of fairies and elves and gnomes, and it was easy to people this new country with them all.