s, I'm afraid, Mr.
Scarlett."

"Not at all: I'm merely flattered. It seems a pity I can't stop in
Timber Town, and see more of such girls; but I must be off to-morrow to
get more gold. Gold is good, Miss Summerhayes, but girls are better."

"Fie, fie. Gold and a good girl--that's perfection."

"They always go together--I quite understand that."

"Now you're frivolling. You're making yourself out to be _blase_ and all
that. I shall tell my father to forbid you the house."

"In which case I shall call on Miss Varnhagen."

"That would be all right--you would meet with the punishment you
deserve. Marry the Varnhagen girl, and you will be grey in two years,
and bald in five."

"Well, I'm going to the gold-fields to-morrow."

"So you said. I hope you will have the same luck as before."

"Is that all you have to say?"

"What more do you want?"

"Any amount."

"You've got gold: you've got feminine adoration. What more is there,
except more gold?"

"More feminine adoration."

"I should have thought you had to-day as much affection as is good for
you."

"You're in high spirits to-night."

"I am. It's jolly to think of people succeeding. It's jolly to know
somebody is growing rich, even if my old father and I are poor, that is
too poor for me to go to assembly balls and private dances and things
like that. So I sit at home and sew, and make puddings, and grow roses.
Heigh-ho! I'm very happy, you know."

Jack looked at her closely. Her cheeks were pink-and-white, her crisp,
brown hair formed a becoming setting to her face, and her blue eyes
sparkled as they watched him.

"It seems to agree with you," he said. "I feel inclined to recommend a
course of sewing and cooking to all my plain girl-friends."

"Mr. Scarlett!"

"I mean it."

"Then go, and tell Rachel Varnhagen to use your recipe."

"She's beautiful already."

Just at this point of the conversation, there was the sound of heavy
steps somewhere in a remote part of the house, and presently the Pilot
of Timber Town tramped into the room.

"Hullo!" he exclaimed. "Mr. Scarlett! Making love to my dar'ter, when I
thought you was on your way to the diggings? Come, come; you're losing
your opportunities; you're wasting time in gallivanting, when you might
be growing rich. There's great news abroad. They've issued a writ
against that chap Tresco for the robbery of those mail-bags."

"Tresco?" said Scarlett.

"Aye, Tresco the goldsmith. He's wanted by