it was all the same old tune," she answered, as she stood up and
took off the mushroom straw hat she was wearing, revealing as she did so
the wealth of golden hair, twined round the top of her head in a heavy
coiled plait, to which she owed the name of "yaller head" among the
frequenters of Marmot's verandah. "It was all Tony Taylor, Tony Taylor,
Tony Taylor. Heavens! why can't the man go gold-digging if he wants to?
The way people talk----"

"Who came with you down the road?" her father interrupted to ask.

"Oh, that fool of a Dickson," she replied, with a short laugh. "He was
hanging around the place, so I told Nellie Murray to go out and see what
he wanted; and she, big fool that she is, brought him in, and then
nothing would do him but he must ride home with me."

"Well, _he_ didn't talk Tony Taylor all the time," her father said,
laughing.

"That's just what he did," she retorted. "It was Tony Taylor all the
way, until I told him to shut up. They make me tired. Now, what are you
laughing at?" she broke off to ask, as she looked up and caught her
father's glance.

"Oh, nothing," he answered. "I was only wondering what Dickson had to
say about him."

"About Tony? Well, he said--you remember what I told you he said the
other night about his mother? Now he says that she would like to see
some of us, or have some of us go over to the station some day. How can
the poor thing see us when she is as blind as a flying fox?"

"But that's not what Dickson said about Tony. I asked----"

"Oh, chut, chut, chut!" the girl exclaimed, as she waved her hands
quickly to and fro in front of his face. "Do please let the dear man
rest while I get tea ready. Don't I tell you it makes me tired? Willy
Dickson was bad enough all the way home, without having more of it here.
People would think I care what happens to Tony Taylor;" and she stood
looking down at her father with wide-opened blue eyes that were as
innocent of deception as a babe's.

"I wish you did," her father said quickly. "He's one of the----"

"Now, you're not going to begin again?" she asked; and, without waiting
for an answer, she turned away and began preparing the table for the
evening meal.

Her father sat watching her as she moved about, not speaking again, for
in turning away and busying herself with something, she had shown as
much temper as ever she showed over anything, and her father understood
the symptom. It was one of her peculiarities that she only