horny
soles on the door-mat. And then, with a boy's ready adaptability in
the matter of meals, I gave a good account of myself behind a plate of
bacon and eggs, with plentiful bread and butter and tea, though I had
broken my fast in the bush an hour or two earlier by polishing off the
sketchy remains of the previous night's supper, washed down by water
from a bright creek.

Domestic capability was the quality most apparent in my breakfast
companion. Her age, I should say, was nearer fifty than forty, but she
was exceedingly well-preserved; and she was called, as she explained
when we sat down, Mrs. Gabbitas. That in itself, I reflected, probably
recommended her warmly to Mr. Perkins. (I guessed in advance that he
might refer to the lady as the Gabbitacious one; and he did, more than
once, in my hearing.)

'Nick Freydon's your name, I'm told. Oh, well, that's all right then.'

Mrs. Gabbitas always spoke, not alone as one having authority, but,
and above all, as one who managed all affairs, things, and people
within her reach, as indeed she did to a great extent. A most capable
and managing woman was Mrs. Gabbitas. I adopted an air of marked
deference towards her, I remember; in part from motives of policy, and
partly too because her capability really impressed me. Before the
bacon was finished we had become quite friendly. I had learned that my
hostess had a full upper set of artificial teeth--quite a distinction
in those days--and that on a certain occasion, I forget now at what
exact period of her life, she had earned undying fame by being called
upon by name, from the pulpit of her chapel, to rise in her place
among the congregation and sing as a solo the anthem beginning: 'How
beautiful upon the mountains!' I gathered now and later that this
remarkable event formed in a sense the pivot upon which Mrs.
Gabbitas's career turned. Having spent all her life in Australia, she
had not been presented at Court; but, alone, unaccompanied, and from
her place among the chapel congregation, she had, in answer to the
minister's call, made one service historic by singing 'How beautiful
upon the mountains!' It was a pious and pleasant memory, and I admit
the story of it did add to her dignity in my eyes. Her false teeth,
though admittedly a distinction at that period, did not precisely add
to her dignity. They were somehow too mobile, too responsive in front
to the forces of gravitation, for a talkative woman.

'Has he given y