Australia Felix

ow over their ears, sat at work. Books lay open on the table before two of them; the third was making a bookmark. Two were fair, plump, rosy, and well ove

of the trio, and laid down her pen.

ed the bookmark by its ribbon ends. Spinning, the mysti

twas meant for your brother John, she’d never ‘ave let yo

to send it up to Purdy Smith,

, Tilly! That woul

and fell in a sigh. “

ed: “What things you do say. Till!

he wax-cloth Tilly pushed a copybook, in which she had labo

work and knitted her

r pupil’s feelings. “But still not quite good enough. The f’s, look, should be more like

“‘Ow well you do it, Poll! But I HATE wr

ain person, ‘oos name I won’t mention, if you don

Tilly, and lazily stretched out a large, plump hand to recover the c

d Jinny, and held out a

embroidery. She took the

eyes on the blowflies sitting sticky and sleepy round the walls of the r

lly, the speller co

hot out Jinny

aid Polly. “It’s g-h

I meant. I knew

now,

Jinny, in the sam

emme think a min

lt impending. “I’m afraid you’ll have to take it again, Jinny

fourth to the three letters, a heavy foot pounded down the passage, and a stout w

cuttle along now, an’ put them books away!— Tilda, yer net’s ‘alf ‘angin’ off — you don’t want yer sweet-’eart to s

turned on them. Polly, her immodest sampler safely hidden at the bottom of her workbox, was the most composed of the three; and while locks were smoothed and c

l aglow with excitement. Tilly, i

” she declared. “It was ’ere, in this ve

ied Jinny, catc

er sister, pressing her hands, one ov

bit as bad,”

the palpitations and fai

oncerned. “I’ll run a

t: let’s ‘ide!” cri

. “But will t

. Ma’ll give ’em t

r may be cross!” had passed unheeded. Now, she, too, fell into a flurry. She could not remain there, by herself, to meet two young men, one of whom was a stranger: steps and voic

heir needles, busy as bees!” the most conspicuous object in the room was a very neat leg, clad in a white stocking and black prunella

ds have flown,” laughed Pu

r. Smith, for sayin’ the right thing. Jus’ exackly like birds they are — so shy an’ scared-like. But I’ll give you th

cried Purdy with a guffaw. “Come, Dick!” And crossing to

y Mahony f

aten flat by the recent rains. At the foot of the garden, behind a clump of gooseberry-bushes, stood an arbour formed of a yellow b

n, who stooped to the low entranc

htened me! ‘Owever did

e very sight of you!”— this from Tilly, as Purdy,

eals, and some ineffectual dives for the doorway. Purdy spread out his

et he had taken, he hurriedly seized the young woman who was next him, and embraced her. It chanced to be

Tilly joined in, and Jinny, too, was infected. When Purdy could speak, he

. Did he admit the blunder, his victim would be hurt. Did he deny it, he would save his own face at the expense

y boy! I intend to make bo

but she knew the ground, which, outside the garden, was rocky and uneven. For a time, she had Mahony at vantage; his heart was not in the game: in cutting undignified capers among th

ed him off. “No . . . no. Ple

nuine dread of undue familiarity. A kindred

disagreeable to you. Shal

ere raised to his, and a flushed face dimpl

illy on one arm, Jinny on the other, held Polly’s above his head. On the appearance of the laggards, Jinny, who had put her own interpr

ed a word

R.C.S., M.D., Edinburgh, at present proprietor of the ‘Diggers’ Emporium,’ Dead Dog Hill, Ballarat. — Dick, my hearty, Miss Tilly Beamish, world-famed for her sauce; Miss Jinny, re

s of laughter, and Tilly hit Pur

ers had puzzled them,

?— Gracious! So clever! It

before ‘and, Purd, so’s w

and Purdy urged them on. “Phoebus is on the wane

but a poor hand at the kind of repartee demanded of their swains by these young women; and to-day his slender talent failed him altogether, crushed by the general ton

ble, he glanced down at his companion; and his eye was arrest

ether. “Your cousins

But they are n

p his ears. “But

. . . Mrs. Beami

as at times reduced: the buttons affixed to his clothing by means of gingerbeer-bottle wire; his periodic onslaughts on sock-darning; the celebrated pudding it had taken him over four hours to make. And Polly, listening to him, forgot her desire to run away. Instead, she c

to help her with tea. And . . . and

y, she had turned an

n her own kitchen fire. She sat and fanned herself with a sheet of newspaper while, time and again, undaunted by refusals, she pressed the good things upon her guests. There were juicy beefsteaks piled high with rings of onion, and a barracoota, a

ken in its course. But the moment arrived when they could eat no more, and when even Mrs. Beamish ceased to urge them. Pipes and pouches were produced; Polly and Jinny rose to

l, I cud jus’ knock their ‘eads together when they sit so close, an’ say: come, give over yer spoonin’ an’ get to business! Either you want one another or you don’t.— I seen you watchin’ our Polly, Mr. Mahony” — she made Mahony wince by stressing the second syllable of his name. “Ble

n Melbourne, had sent to England for the girl on her leaving school, to come out and assist in keeping his house. And how an elder si

t ‘er for somethin’ else to do. We tuck ‘er in, an’, I will say, I’ve never regretted it. Indeed I don’t know now, ‘ow we ever got on without ‘er.— Y

irst time except to put food in it. “That I will,” and he pa

ears. To spare her, Mahony turned his head and looked out of the window. He would have liked to say: Run away, child, run away, and don’t let them see your confusion. P

men pushed back their chairs from the t

s had to be fetched from a distance. “No doubt about it, it’s the wife that wears the breeches,” was Mahony’s inward comment. And as

had been no peace for him till he had chucked his twelve-year-old job and joined the rush to Mount Alexander. But at heart he had remained a bushman; and he was now all on the side of the squatters in their tussle with the Crown. He knew a bit, he’d make bold to say, about the acreage needed in certain districts per head of sheep; he could tell a tale of the risks and mischances squatting involved: “

mmigrants to settle there. Why, America was but three thousand miles distant from the old country, compared with Australia’s thirteen thousand, and in America land was to be had in plenty at five shillings per acre. As to Mr. Beamish’s idea of the gold giving out, the g

the resonant voice of Mrs. Beamish could be he

aste an atom, my chuck — remember that, when you’ve got an ’ouse of your own! No, girls, I always says, through their stomachs, that’s the shortcut to their ‘earts. T

ny that night: she was sitting half-undressed on the side

illy from her pillow. Again Purdy had let slip a golden chance to pu

le from saying Ma-HON-y,” said Jinny dreamily. She, too, had spe

ny Beamish, if one didn’t know you ‘ad the ‘abit of marrying yourself

re as mad as can be because you can’t bri

lly, grieved at this thru

t a drop o’ water in this blessed jug again. ‘Oo

ht. You can fet

I see m

ed. “I’ll go f

, Poll! But you shan’t go a

lic part of the house, beside the bar; but the passage was bare and quiet. The girls crept mousily past the room occupied by the two young

of the jug, and fell with a loud plop. At this Jinny lost her head and ran off with the candle. Polly, in a panic of fright, dived into the pantry with her burden, and crou

l hungry, and come into the pantry and discover her?— Polly heard Purdy say with appalling loudness: “Oh, go on, old man-don’t jaw so!” He then seemed t

other voice answered: “Here’s what I think.

damn it all, man, you don

ure, that I do not make bets

sort. And yet good Lord, Dick!”— the r

and fled, regardless of the open door, or

ery tight, drew the sheet over her face: it felt as though it would never be cool again.— Hence, Jinny, agreeably wakeful, was forced to keep her thou

nd Tilly stood on the verandah of romantic memories, and ruefully waved their handk