she and Mrs. Hemmerde
stuffed the willing babe till, full to bursting, it warded them off
with its tiny hands.

Mahony laughed heartily at the tale, and applauded his wife's prompt
measures. "Short of the forceps nothing could have been better!"

Yes, Polly had a dash of native shrewdness, which he prized. And a pair
of clever hands that were never idle. He had given her leave to make
any changes she chose in the house, and she was for ever stitching away
at white muslin, or tacking it over pink calico. These affairs made
their little home very spick and span, and kept Polly from feeling
dull--if one could imagine Polly dull! With the cooking alone had there
been a hitch in the beginning. Like a true expert Mrs. Beamish had not
tolerated understudies: none but the lowliest jobs, such as
raisin-stoning or potato-peeling, had fallen to the three girls' share:
and in face of her first fowl Polly stood helpless and dismayed. But
not for long. Sarah was applied to for the best cookery-book on sale in
Melbourne, and when this arrived, Polly gave herself up to the study of
it. She had many failures, both private and avowed. With the worst, she
either retired behind the woodstack, or Tom disposed of them for her,
or the dog ate them up. But she persevered: and soon Mahony could with
truth declare that no one raised a better loaf or had a lighter hand at
pastry than his wife.

Three knocks on the wooden partition was the signal which, if he were
not serving a customer, summoned him to the kitchen.

"Oh, Richard, it's ripen beautifully!" And, red with heat and pride,
Polly drew a great golden-crusted, blown-up sponge-cake along the oven
shelf. Richard, who had a sweet tooth, pretended to be unable to curb
his impatience.

"Wait! First I must see ..." and she plunged a knife into the cake's
heart: it came out untarnished. "Yes, it's done to a turn."

There and then it was cut; for, said Mahony, that was the only way in
which he could make sure of a piece. Afterwards chunks were dealt out
to every one Polly knew--to Long Jim, Hempel, Tommy Ocock, the little
Hemmerdes. Side by side on the kitchen-table, their feet dangling in
the air, husband and wife sat boy-and-girl fashion and munched hot
cake, till their appetites for dinner were wrecked.

But the rains that heralded winter--and they set in early that
year--had not begun to fall when more serious matters claimed Mahony's
attention.

Chapter IV

It was an odd a