tual brow and
hovered in the air, like some courteous black bird, for an instant.
"Mrs. Jellicoe! Mrs. Protherick! My dear leddies, this is an unexpected
pleasure! And where, pray, are you going on this lovely afternoon? To
stay in the house is positively sinful. Ah! what a climate--but
the Trail of the Serpent, my dear Mrs. Protherick--the Trail of the
Serpent--" and he sighed.

"It must be a great trial to you to come to the colony," said Mrs.
Jellicoe, sympathizing with the sigh.

Meekin smiled, as a gentlemanly martyr might have smiled. "The Lord's
work, dear leddies--the Lord's work. I am but a poor labourer in the
vineyard, toiling through the heat and burden of the day." The aspect
of him, with his faultless tie, his airy coat, his natty boots, and his
self-satisfied Christian smile, was so unlike a poor labourer toiling
through the heat and burden of the day, that good Mrs. Jellicoe, the
wife of an orthodox Comptroller of Convicts' Stores, felt a horrible
thrill of momentary heresy. "I would rather have remained in England,"
continued Mr. Meekin, smoothing one lavender finger with the tip of
another, and arching his elegant eyebrows in mild deprecation of any
praise of his self-denial, "but I felt it my duty not to refuse the
offer made me through the kindness of his lordship. Here is a field,
leddies--a field for the Christian pastor. They appeal to me, leddies,
these lambs of our Church--these lost and outcast lambs of our Church."

Mrs. Jellicoe shook her gay bonnet ribbons at Mr. Meekin, with a hearty
smile. "You don't know our convicts," she said (from the tone of
her jolly voice it might have been "our cattle"). "They are horrible
creatures. And as for servants--my goodness, I have a fresh one every
week. When you have been here a little longer, you will know them
better, Mr. Meekin."

"They are quite unbearable at times." said Mrs. Protherick, the widow
of a Superintendent of Convicts' Barracks, with a stately indignation
mantling in her sallow cheeks. "I am ordinarily the most patient
creature breathing, but I do confess that the stupid vicious wretches
that one gets are enough to put a saint out of temper." "We have all
our crosses, dear leddies--all our crosses," said the Rev. Mr. Meekin
piously. "Heaven send us strength to bear them! Good-morning."

"Why, you are going our way," said Mrs. Jellicoe. "We can walk
together."

"Delighted! I am going to call on Major Vickers."

"And I live within