g about the office for half-an-hour
when Mr Jack Bowles rushes out, and shouts "William May!" That young
person, excessively clean, attired in a quiet tweed suit, with his hair
cut very correctly short, advances with an air of calm intrepidity, and
faces Mr Gordon. Gordon, now seated at a long table, wearing a
judicial expression of countenance.

"Well, May, here's your account":--

So many sheep, at 1 pound per 100... xxxx pounds
Cook, so many weeks................. xxxx pounds
Shearing store account.............. xxxx pounds
Private store account............... xxxx pounds
----
Total............................... xxxx pounds
----

"Is the tally of your sheep right?" "Oh! I daresay it's all right, Mr
Gordon, I made it so and so; about ten less."

"Well, well! Ours is correct, no doubt. Now I want to make up a good
subscription for the hospital this year. How much will you give? You've
done pretty well, I think."

"Put me down a pound, sir."

"Very well, that's fair enough. If every one gives what they can
afford, you men will always have a place to go to when you're hurt or
laid up. So I put your name down, and you'll see it in the published
list. Now about the shearing, May. I consider that you've done your
work very well, and behaved very well all through. You're a fast
shearer, but you shear closely, and don't knock your sheep about. I
therefore do not charge you for any part of your meat bill, and I pay
you at the rate of half-a-crown a hundred for all your sheep, over and
above your agreement. Will that do?"

"Very well, indeed, and I'm much obliged to you, Mr Gordon."

"Well, good-bye May! Always call when you're passing, and if any work
is going on you'll get your share. Here's your cheque. Send in Lawson!"
Exit May, in high spirits, having cleared about three pounds per week,
during the whole term of shearing, and having lived a far from
unpleasant life, indeed akin to that of a fighting cock, from the
commencement to the end of that period.

Lawson's interview may be described as having very similar results. He,
also, was a first-class shearer, though not so artistic as the gifted
Billy. Jack Windsor's saucy blue eyes twinkled merrily as he returned
to his companions, and incontinently leaped on the back of his
wild-eyed colt. After these three worthies came a shearer named
Jackson; he belonged to quite a di