tudy of the stockman--moleskins, not too clean and
rubbed and frayed in places, fastened up with a strap; faded Crimean
shirt exposing a wealed and tattooed breast; old felt hat--not a
cabbage tree--with a pipe stuck in its greasy band; an ancient red silk
handkerchief with ragged edges, where whip crackers had been torn off,
round his neck, and a short axe slipped among a few old pouches into
the strap at his waist. He jumped on to the veranda, clicked his teeth
in an admiring ejaculation as he gazed at Lady Bridget.

'My word! BUJERI feller White Mary you! ... new feller Mithsis
belonging to Boss. My word!' Then as McKeith drew up his horses in
front of the hotel, Wombo and Moongarr Bill sprang to the heads of
wheelers and leaders.

It seemed to Bridget that there was a change in her husband even since
he had left her. He looked more determined, more practical, wholly
absorbed in the unsentimental business of the moment. He had changed
into looser, more workmanlike rig--was belted, pouched, carried his
whip grandly, handled his reins with a royal air of command, as if he
were now thoroughly at home in his own dominions, had already asserted
his authority--which she found presently to be the case--and intended
the rest of the world to knock under to him. There flashed on Lady
Bridget an absurd idea of having been married by proxy--like the little
princesses of history--and of being now received into her lord's
country by the monarch in person. Her face was rippling all over with
laughter when he joined her in the veranda.

'What! Another delicious black boy! He looks like a Christy Minstrel. I
thought you hated blacks, Colin.'

'So I do. You've got to have 'em though for stock boys, and I keep my
heel on the lot at Moongarr. Wombo and Cudgee aren't bad chaps so long
as they are kept clear of their tribe. How do you like the new buggy,
my lady? A dandy go-cart, eh?'

He looked as pleased as a child with a new toy carriage. The buggy was
quite a smart bush turn-out--comfortable seats in front--a varnished
cover, now lying back; a well behind, filled with luggage; a narrow
back seat whence Cudgee--a smaller edition of Wombo--sprang down.
Cudgee, too, stared at Lady Bridget and clicked his teeth in
admiration, exclaiming:

'Hullo! New feller Mithsis.'

Afterwards, Lady Bridget remembered the greetings and wondered why the
black boys had said: 'New feller Mithsis!' Who had been the old feller
Mithsis? she asked her