with his
master's cash, dashed away to Australia, made millions, fit to be a lord,
and there he was! liable to the law! and everybody bowing their hats and
their heads off to him, and his knees knocking at the sight of a
policeman--a man of a red complexion, full habit of body, enjoyed his
dinner and his wine, and on account of his turning white so often, they
called him--'sealing-wax and Parchment' was one name; 'Carrots and
turnips' was another; 'Blumonge and something,' and so on. Fancy his
having to pay half his income in pensions to chaps who could have had him
out of his town or country mansion and popped into gaol in a jiffy. And
found out at last! Them tales set you thinking. Once I was an idle young
scaramouch. But you can buy every idea that's useful to you for a penny.
I tried the halfpenny journals. Cheapness ain't always profitable. The
moral is, Make your money, and you may buy all the rest."

Discoursing thus by the way, and resisting the farmer's occasional
efforts to relieve him of the bag, with the observation that appearances
were deceiving, and that he intended, please his Maker, to live and turn
over a little more interest yet, Anthony brought them to Mrs. Wicklow's
house. Mrs. Wicklow promised to put them into the track of the omnibuses
running toward Dahlia's abode in the Southwest, and Mary Ann Wicklow, who
had a burning desire in her bosom to behold even the outside shell of her
friend's new grandeur, undertook very disinterestedly to accompany them.
Anthony's strict injunction held them due at a lamp-post outside Boyne's
Bank, at half-past three o'clock in the afternoon.

"My love to Dahly," he said. "She was always a head and shoulders over my
size. Tell her, when she rolls by in her carriage, not to mind me. I got
my own notions of value. And if that Mr. Ayrton of hers 'll bank at
Boyne's, I'll behave to him like a customer. This here's the girl for my
money." He touched Rhoda's arm, and so disappeared.

The farmer chided her for her cold manner to her uncle, murmuring aside
to her: "You heard what he said." Rhoda was frozen with her heart's
expectation, and insensible to hints or reproof. The people who entered
the omnibus seemed to her stale phantoms bearing a likeness to every one
she had known, save to her beloved whom she was about to meet, after long
separation.

She marvelled pityingly at the sort of madness which kept the streets so
lively for no reasonable purpose. When she was o