The Gold-Stealers A Story of Waddy

the Drovers' Arms. The chapel, according to the view of the zealous brethren who conducted it, represented al

le Corner of the Vineyard,' and through the front windows of the latter, one sabbath morn after another for many years,

fence only, so the chapel ground was the chief rendezvous of all the goats of Waddy-and they were many and various. They gathered in its shade in the summer and sought its shelter from the biting blast in winter, not always content with an outside stand; for the goats of Waddy were conscious of their importance, and of a familiar and impudent breed. Sometimes a matronly nanny would climb the steps, and march sob

wonders secreted above the dusty rafters or in the wide yellow cupboards. The first classes were nearest the door. The young ladies, if we make reasonable allowance for an occasional natural preoccupation induced by their consciousness of the proximity of the young men, were devoted students of the gospel a interpreted by Brother Tresize, and sufficiently saintly always, presuming that no disturbing element such as a new hat or an unfamiliar dress was introduced to awaken the critical spirit. The young men, looking in their Sunday clothes like awkward and tawdry imitations of their workaday selves, were instructed by Brother

s hymn-book for order. Ephraim never raised his head even in chapel, but his cold, dull eyes, under their scr

will open this morn-in's serv

ver his loose blue shirt, and he carried in his right hand a coiled stockwhip. His face had the grey tinge of wrath, and his lips were set firm on a grim determina

Dick excitedly. 'Ha

as reserved and grew every day more sullen. He had heard much and had answered nothing; and now here he was at chapel and evidently bent on mischief, for the stockwhip was ominous. Ephraim Shine had noticed it and retreated a step or two, and stood for quite a minute, turni

failure. The young man stared straight before him, seeing only one figure, that of Ephraim Shine, until he felt a light touch on his arm. Someone was standing at his side, offering him the half of her hymn-book. H

ur had ceased singing, and was whispering tremulou

and he set it resolutel

m Christina Shine. You remembe

ng man let his left h

but you won't do it, Harry? You saved my life once,

nothing, and the plea

friends, Harry, say you won't do it-y

he slandered my mother.' The m

e prayed for her. He

r of his cant about saving souls he scatters hi

Indeed, indeed

ot come here to learn better. Says she's an atheist because she does not beli

ck had not taken his eyes off the pair, and already had woven a very pretty romance about Chris and the young man. Christina Shine had only recently been raised to the pedestal in his fond heart form

questioning belief in Frank's guilt, and a dozen times had been compelled to sit biting on his bitterness, when every instinct impelled him to square up and teach the fools better with all the force of his pugilistic knowledge. Of late years he had been schooled in a class that accepted 'a ready left' as the most convincing argument, and, being beyond the immediate province of law and order, repaired immediately with all its grie

the third verse, and

d the girl. 'Do, do think! T

he brute that insults a woman in her sorrow, thinking ther

. I told him that, and he has promised me never to

ugh Harry's teeth was f

u won't

who all the time had kept a lowering and anxious ey

will not. Pl

arry, who had taken the book again, had shifted his stern eyes to the slim white thumb beside his broad brown one. A stifled sob at his side startle

f the shoulders and erectness of the figure, but neatly gowned, with little feminine touches of flower and ribbon that belied the savour of unwomanliness in her size and her bearing. Her complexion was clear and fair, her abundant hair the colour of new wheat, her features were large, the nose a trifle aquiline, the chin square and, finely chiselled; the feminine grace was due to her eyes, large, grey, and almost infantile in expression. The people of Waddy

; and to find this tall girl, with the face and figure of a battle queen, tearfully beseeching where in the natural course of events she should

will go

his head, and

our mother more than my father's

n was wrought to an unprecedented pitch. Never had a hymn been so badly sung in that chapel. It was taken up again w

ou will be glad you did not do this wicked

e from the chapel. The congregation breathed a great sigh, and as he passed out th

tion could see Harry Hardy striding awa

eelings. Many of the congregation were disappointed. They had expected a sensational climax. Class II was inconsolable, and made not the slightes