a, and the Cargills never heard of him again.

This Mrs. Macdougal found ever so much nicer than having prosaic parents
who could be produced at any moment; it left a wide field for the
imagination, and Marcia was free to think herself a misplaced princess,
or, at the very least, the daughter of a distressed earl. Naturally,
being a sentimental soul, she provided herself with a sufficiently
romantic history up to the moment of the disappearance of her nondescript
papa; and if she could not substantiate it, there was much satisfaction
in knowing that no body could disprove it. That she had been christened
with an aristocratic and poetical name like Marcia she held to be
convincing testimony of her inherent gentility.

Not a little of the extra merriment of Mrs. Macdougal's Christmas and the
happiness of her New Year was due to the fortunate circumstance that she
had a lion to present to her guests in the person of the Honourable
Walter Ryder. It was Marcia herself who insisted upon giving Mr. Walter
Ryder the title of quality; he merely implied that at the most he was a
man of good family, eccentric enough to prefer the rough-and-ready
Australian life to the methodical weariness of the social order 'at
home'; and when his hostess laughingly insisted on not being deceived by
his plebeian pretensions, he gallantly submitted.

'Give me what title you please, Mrs. Macdougal,' he said; 'you are my
queen.'

Mr. Ryder had done Macdougal of Boobyalla a great service in rescuing him
and his sovereigns from the revolver and the predatory fingers of Dan
Coleman and one of his gang, and was always welcome to Boobyalla. To be
sure, Macdougal was not to be expected to know how much Coleman had been
paid for providing Walter Ryder with this opportunity of ingratiating
himself with a prominent squatter, the proprietor of a large sheep-run.
The Honourable Walter arrived at the station a week before Christmas,
riding a fine gray horse, and carrying with him the paraphernalia of a
gentleman. His clothing was cut in the latest possible London style, and
he was splendidly equipped. He lamented the one thing Australia could not
produce, a satisfactory valet.

'My profound objection to democracy as a principle arises from the fact
that the levelling process destroys our perfect valets,' he told Mrs.
Macdougal.

'Oh yes, it does, does it not?' she answered brightly. Possibly it was to
provide for his deficiency in this respect that after