ent
with glass and flowers.

"I've a fellow who was a professional gardener," said Burgess to Sylvia
during the dinner, "and I make use of his talents."

"We have a professional artist also," said Macklewain, with a sort of
pride. "That picture of the 'Prisoner of Chillon' yonder was painted by
him. A very meritorious production, is it not?"

"I've got the place full of curiosities," said Burgess; "quite a
collection. I'll show them to you to-morrow. Those napkin rings were
made by a prisoner."

"Ah!" cried Frere, taking up the daintily-carved bone, "very neat!"

"That is some of Rex's handiwork," said Meekin. "He is very clever at
these trifles. He made me a paper-cutter that was really a work of art."

"We will go down to the Neck to-morrow or next day, Mrs. Frere," said
Burgess, "and you shall see the Blow-hole. It is a curious place."

"Is it far?" asked Sylvia.

"Oh no! We shall go in the train."

"The train!"

"Yes--don't look so astonished. You'll see it to-morrow. Oh, you Hobart
Town ladies don't know what we can do here."

"What about this Kirkland business?" Frere asked. "I suppose I can have
half an hour with you in the morning, and take the depositions?"

"Any time you like, my dear fellow," said Burgess. "It's all the same to
me."

"I don't want to make more fuss than I can help," Frere said
apologetically--the dinner had been good--"but I must send these people
up a 'full, true and particular', don't you know."

"Of course," cried Burgess, with friendly nonchalance. "That's all
right. I want Mrs. Frere to see Point Puer."

"Where the boys are?" asked Sylvia.

"Exactly. Nearly three hundred of 'em. We'll go down to-morrow, and you
shall be my witness, Mrs. Frere, as to the way they are treated."

"Indeed," said Sylvia, protesting, "I would rather not. I--I don't
take the interest in these things that I ought, perhaps. They are very
dreadful to me."

"Nonsense!" said Frere, with a scowl. "We'll come, Burgess, of course."
The next two days were devoted to sight-seeing. Sylvia was taken through
the hospital and the workshops, shown the semaphores, and shut up by
Maurice in a "dark cell". Her husband and Burgess seemed to treat the
prison like a tame animal, whom they could handle at their leisure, and
whose natural ferocity was kept in check by their superior intelligence.
This bringing of a young and pretty woman into immediate contact with
bolts and bars had about it an incongruity whi