lady was an aunt of that Mr. Jokram who had earned distinction
(apart from his membership of the School of Arts Committee) by being
the first to address me as 'Mister Freydon.' This good man had taken a
most friendly interest in my outsetting, and had written off at once
to his aunt to know if she could include me among her boarders. Mrs.
Hastings had explained that she was 'Full up as per usual, but if your
gentleman friend would care to share Mr. Smith's bedroom, him being as
quiet and respectable a gentleman as walks, it will be easy to put in
another bed.'

This was before any mention had been made of terms. These, we
subsequently learned, ranged from a minimum of 17s. 6d. per week,
including light and use of bath. Later, the nephew was able to obtain
special concessions for me, as the result of which I had the
opportunity of securing all the amenities of Mrs. Hastings's refined
home, including a share of Mr. Smith's room, and such plain washing as
did not call for the use of starch--all for the very moderate charge
of 16s. weekly.

Thus it was that, although a stranger and without friends in Sydney, I
was able to go direct into my new quarters, without any loss of time
or money; an important consideration even for a capitalist whose
fortune at this time amounted to something nearer thirty than twenty
pounds. (Mr. Perkins had given me an extra month's wages. Mrs. Perkins
had supplemented this by half a sovereign, six pairs of socks, three
linen shirts, and half a dozen collars; and Mrs. Gabbitas had given me
a brand new Bible and Prayer-book, with ornate bindings and perfectly
blinding type, and another of the silk handkerchiefs coloured like a
tropical sunset.)

'I shall not be in to tea this evening, Mrs. Hastings, I said, with
fine carelessness, as I left the house, after unpacking my belongings
and paying a visit to the bathroom, an apartment formed by taking in a
section of the back verandah. (The bath was of the same material as
the verandah roof--galvanised iron.) 'I've got some business in Sydney
that will keep me rather late.'

The good woman rather pierced my carefully assumed guise of
nonchalance by the smile with which she said: 'Oh, very well, Mr.
Freydon; I hope you'll not be kept too late--by business.'

'How in the world did she guess?' I thought as I walked down to the
ferry. It may be that the virus of city life had in some queer way
already entered my veins. Here was I, the parsimonious 'han