‘Why are you going to Hobart Town, Papa?’ Sophia had been hinting to her father about a new dress; exaggerating how she needed more than two dresses because she was growing taller every day.
‘I’m not getting a dress this trip, Sophia. Mama will make you a new dress when the fabric arrives from London. You’ll have to squeeze into the ones you have, a bit longer. This time I’m bringing back a convict assignee to help around the farm.’
‘We don’t want a convict on the farm, Papa,’ Betsy said helping Cullen put his things into the boat as it bobbed up and down on the river.
Cullen’s brow furrowed and the smile that always accompanied conversations with his daughters, disappeared. ‘What are you saying, child?’
‘Sophia said convicts steal things and tell lies. The convicts on Mr Triffitt’s fa
