ten yoke of oxen. They climbed up endless
winding roads. The men shot at birds and prospected for diamonds along the
wayside; and at night they took the hay from the mattresses to give to the
cattle. Lolling indolence was in the air and plenty in the larder: big
fruits, strange game, which they cooked in a makeshift oven consisting of
a few stones. Then they rolled themselves up in a blanket, near the
elephants tugging at their chains, and slept under the tent in the cool,
bright, starry night.

[Illustration: LILY IN INDIA]

Months and months passed. Lily was becoming very clever: the New Zealander
on Wheels! She was cleverer than Pa, who no longer performed, nor Ma
either. On their return to Australia, Lily appeared by herself in the
music-halls, and P. T. Clifton, Manager, watched her from the wings, in
growing admiration: his Lily was a star now, too good for a circus! And
Australia, pooh! Sidney, Melbourne, pooh! What Lily wanted was New York,
London, the Hippodromes, the Palaces! He'd show them a star that was a
star! And Clifton clenched his fists and pretended not to see when Lily
made a blunder on the stage: his Lily missing a trick! Disgracing her Pa
like that! He blushed to the eyes at the thought of it! And, when she
returned to the wings, he twitted her proudly:

"What next, Lily! An artiste like you!"

And Ma adopted a sarcastic air and congratulated "mademoiselle" as she
threw the white wrapper over "mademoiselle's" shoulders.

Ma detested the stage. She did not think it a nice place for herself; but
for a brat like Lily, Lord, it was quite different! And she ought to have
tried to please her Pa and Ma. Mrs. Clifton, though she never voiced the
wish, had visions of a trip to London, to stagger some relations, a
sister-in-law she had there, and sneer at the old country, in the usual
colonial fashion, and show them what the new countries can do, countries
where you make a fortune in less than no time! And, little by little,
smitten with Mr. Clifton's enthusiasm, she came to believe that, in Lily,
they really possessed the infant prodigy, the treasure-child upon whom
their fortune depended. And Ma, too, was vexed when Lily missed a trick on
the stage.

Lily laughed at their anger. Ma had never raised a hand to her; and, as
for Pa, when he scolded, Lily had such a way of looking at him, with
lowered head--"Oh, _so_ sorry!"--that Pa simmered down again at once.
Lily, a regular "tenter," shot up freely, g