on her bonnet and accompanied them. She knew Richard's
hatred of a scene.

"You just walk on, dear, and get his seat," she said, while she dragged
the cross, tired child on her hand to the public-house, where even at
this hour a posse of idlers hung about.

And she did well to be there. Instantly on arriving Johnny set up a
wail, because there was talk of putting him inside the vehicle; and
this persisted until the coachman, a goat-bearded Yankee, came to the
rescue and said he was darned if such a plucky young nipper shouldn't
get his way: he'd have the child tied on beside him on the box-seat--be
blowed if he wouldn't! But even this did not satisfy Johnny; and while
Mahony went to procure a length of rope, he continued to prance round
his aunt and to tug ceaselessly at her sleeve.

"Can I dwive, Aunt Polly, can I dwive? Ask him, can I dwive!" he
roared, beating her skirts with his fists. He was only silenced by the
driver threatening to throw him as a juicy morsel to the gang of
bushrangers who, sure as blazes, would be waiting to stick the coach up
directly it entered the bush.

Husband and wife lingered to watch the start, when the champing horses
took a headlong plunge forward and, together with the coach, were
swallowed up in a whirlwind of dust. A last glimpse discovered Johnny,
pale and wide-eyed at the lurching speed, but sitting bravely erect.

"The spirit of your brother in that child, my dear!" said Mahony as
they made to walk home.

"Poor little Johnny," and Polly wiped her eyes. "If only he was going
back to a mother who loved him, and would understand."

"I'm sure no mother could have done more for him than you, love."

"Yes, but a real mother wouldn't need to give him up, however naughty
he had been."

"I think the young varmint might have shown some regret at parting from
you, after all this time," returned her husband, to whom it was
offensive if even a child was lacking in good feeling. "He never turned
his head. Well, I suppose it's a fact, as they say, that the natural
child is the natural barbarian."

"Johnny never meant any harm. It was I who didn't know how to manage
him," said Polly staunchly.--"Why, Richard, what IS the matter?" For
letting her arm fall Mahony had dashed to the other side of the road.

"Good God, Polly, look at this!"

"This" was a printed notice, nailed to a shed, which announced that a
sale of frontages in Mair and Webster Streets would shortly be held.

"But