n the music-stool a woman's cloak was
lying, on the piano a woman's cap. A great book-case reached from ceiling
to floor, filled with books, its shelves fringed with some scalloped red
stuff. Everywhere were nick-nacks in china, in glass, in terra-cotta, in
carved woods, in ivory; photo frames; medallions. On the walls, bright
with striped hangings, were some dainty pictures. Half concealed by the
hangings was another door. Lying about on the table, here and there on
low shelves, were more books. The ground-glass globes of the gaslights
were covered with crimson shades. There was a subdued blaze of vivid
colouring, of rich toned hues, of beautiful things loved and cherished,
over all. Sitting on the edge of the table was the moustached man who
smoked the wooden pipe. And turning round from the book-case, an open
book in his hand, was the ugly little man. Ned felt that this was
Geisner.

The ugly little man put down his book, and came forward holding out his
hand. He smiled as he came. Ned was angered to see that when he smiled
his face became wonderfully pleasant.

"Yes; I think we know one another, Miss Lawton," he said, meeting them on
the uncarpeted floor.

"I am so glad you are here to-night," she replied, greeting him warmly,
almost effusively. "I recollect you so well. And Ned will know you, too
--Mr. Geisner, Mr. Hawkins." Ned felt his reluctantly extended hand
enclosed in a strong friendly clasp.

"Hawkins is the Queenslander we were expecting," said Stratton
cheerfully. "You will excuse my familiarity, won't you?" he added, laying
his hand on Ned's shoulder. "We don't 'Mister' our friends much here. I
think it sounds cold and distant; don't you?"

"We don't 'Mister' much where I come from," answered Ned. He felt at home
already. The atmosphere of kindness in this place stole over him and
prevented him thinking that it was too "swell" for him.

"I don't know Queensland much----," Geisner was beginning, when the
farther verandah door was swung wide and the dark-haired little woman
swept in, tray in hand, the train of her dress trailing behind her.

"I heard you, Nellie dear," she cried. "That unfeeling Josie was saying
the cruellest things to me. I feel as red as red." Putting the tray down
on the table she hurried to them, threw her plump bare arms round
Nellie's neck and kissed her warmly on both cheeks. Then she drew back
quickly and raised her finger threateningly. "Worrying again, Nellie, I
can tell.