f Richard and
held her tongue before him; Mrs. Beamish prided herself on being afraid
of nobody, and on always speaking her mind. And yet, even while
agreeing that it would be well to put "mother" off, Polly drooped her
wings. At a time like this a woman was a woman. It seemed as if even
the best of husbands did not quite understand.

"Just give her the hint we don't want her," said Mahony airily.

But "mother" was not the person to take a hint, no matter how broad. It
was necessary to be blunt to the point of rudeness; and Polly spent a
difficult hour over the composition of her letter. She might have saved
her pains. Mrs. Beamish replied that she knew her darling little
Polly's unwillingness to give trouble; but it was not likely she would
now go back on her word: she had been packed and ready to start for the
past week. Polly handed the letter to her husband, and did not say what
she thought she read out of it, namely that "mother," who so seldom
could be spared from home, was looking forward with pleasure to her
trip to Ballarat.

"I suppose it's a case of making the best of a bad job," sighed Mahony;
and having one day drawn Mrs. Beamish, at melting point, from the
inside of a crowded coach, he loaded Long Jim with her bags and bundles.

His aversion was not lightened by his subsequently coming on his wife
in the act of unpacking a hamper, which contained half a ham, a stone
jar of butter, some home-made loaves of bread, a bag of vegetables and
a plum pudding. "Good God! does the woman think we can't give her
enough to eat?" he asked testily. He had all the poor Irishman's
distrust of a gift.

"She means it kindly, dear. She probably thought things were still
scarce here; and she knew I wouldn't be able to do much cooking,"
pleaded Polly. And going out to the kitchen she untied the last parcel,
in which was a big round cheese, by stealth.

She had pulled Mrs. Beamish over the threshold, had got her into the
bedroom and shut the door, before any of the "ohs" and "ahs" she saw
painted on the broad, rubicund face could be transformed into words.
And hugs and kisses over, she bravely seized the bull by the horns and
begged her guest not to criticise house or furnishings in front of
Richard.

It took Mrs. Beamish a minute or two to grasp her meaning. Then, she
said heartily: "There, there, my duck, don't you worry! I'll be as mum
as mum." And in a whisper: "So, 'e's got a temper, Polly, 'as 'e? But
this I will