where a friendly
little barmaid had some refreshments on a tray awaiting me, and while
warming my feet preparatory to eating I read the letter he had given me,
which was addressed in my grandmother's handwriting. In it she told me
that she and my aunt were only just recovering from bad colds, and on
account of the inclemency of the weather thought it unwise to come to
town to meet me; but Frank Hawden, the jackeroo would take every care of
me, settle the hotel bill, and tip the coach-driver. Caddagat was
twenty-four miles distant from Gool-Gool, and the latter part of the road
was very hilly. It was already past three o'clock, and, being rainy, the
short winter afternoon would dose in earlier; so I swallowed my tea and
cake with all expedition, so as not to delay Mr Hawden, who was waiting
to assist me into the buggy, where the groom was in charge of the horses
in the yard. He struck up a conversation with me immediately.

"Seeing your name on yer bags, an' knowin' you was belonging to the
Bossiers, I ask if yer might be a daughter of Dick Melvyn, of
Bruggabrong, out by Timlinbilly."

"Yes, I am."

"Well, miss, please remember me most kindly to yer pa; he was a good boss
was Dick Melvyn. I hope he's doin' well. I'm Billy Haizelip, brother to
Mary and Jane. You remember Jane, I s'pose, miss?"

I hadn't time to say more than promise to send his remembrances to my
father, for Mr Hawden, saying we would be in the dark, had whipped his
horses and was bowling off at a great pace, in less than two minutes
covering a rise which put Gool-Gool out of sight. It was raining a
little, so I held over us the big umbrella, which grannie had sent, while
we discussed the weather, to the effect that rain was badly needed and
was a great novelty nowadays, and it was to be hoped it would continue.
There had been but little, but the soil here away was of that rich loamy
description which little water turns to mud. It clogged the wheels and
loaded the break-blocks; and the near side horse had a nasty way of
throwing his front feet, so that he deposited soft red lumps of mud in
our laps at every step. But, despite these trifling drawbacks, it was
delightful to be drawn without effort by a pair of fat horses in splendid
harness. It was a great contrast to our poor skinny old horse at home,
crawling along in much-broken harness, clumsily and much mended with
string and bits of hide.

Mr Hawden was not at all averse to talking. After emptyi