edges remained: had put on immortality.

In the course of their talk it leaked out that Polly would not feel
comfortable till her choice was ratified by brother John.

"I'm sure you will like John; he is so clever."

"I shall like everyone belonging to you, my Polly!"

As she lost her shyness Mahony made the discovery that she laughed
easily, and was fond of a jest. Thus, when he admitted to her that he
found it difficult to distinguish one fair, plump, sister Beamish from
the other; that they seemed to him as much alike as two firm,
pink-ribbed mushrooms, the little woman was hugely tickled by his his
masculine want of perception. "Why, Jinny has brown eyes and Tilly
blue!"

What he did not know, and what Polly did not confess to him, was that
much of her merriment arose from sheer lightness of heart.--She, silly
goose that she was! who had once believed Jinny to be the picked object
of his attentions.

But she grew serious again: could he tell her, please, why Mr. Smith
wrote so seldom to Tilly? Poor Tilly was unhappy at his long
silences--fretted over them in bed at night.

Mahony made excuses for Purdy, urging his unsettled mode of life. But
it pleased him to see that Polly took sides with her friend, and
loyally espoused her cause.

No, there had not been a single jarring note in all their intercourse;
each moment had made the dear girl dearer to him. Now, worse luck,
forty odd miles were between them again.

It had been agreed that he should call at her brother's private house,
towards five o'clock in the afternoon. He had thus to kill time for the
better part of the next day. His first visit was to a jeweller's in
Great Collins Street. Here, he pushed aside a tray of showy diamonds--a
successful digger was covering the fat, red hands of his bride with
them--and chose a slender, discreetly chased setting, containing three
small stones. No matter what household duties fell to Polly's share,
this little ring would not be out of place on her finger.

From there he went to the last address Purdy had given him; only to
find that the boy had again disappeared. Before parting from Purdy, the
time before, he had lent him half the purchase-money for a horse and
dray, thus enabling him to carry out an old scheme of plying for hire
at the city wharf. According to the landlord of the "Hotel Vendome," to
whom Mahony was referred for fuller information, Purdy had soon tired
of this job, and selling dray and beast fo