believes some day Ballarat will be the chief city--bigger even than
Geelong or Melbourne. And then to have a good practice here would mean
ever such a lot of money. I'm not the only person who thinks so.
There's Sara, and Mrs. Beamish--I know, of course, you don't care much
what they say; but still--" Polly meant: still, you see, I have public
opinion on my side. As, however, once more words failed her, she
hastened to add: "John, too, is amazed to hear you think of going home
to bury yourself in some little English village. He's sure there'd be a
splendid opening for you here. John thinks very, very highly of you. He
told me he believes you would have saved Emma's life, if you had been
there."

"I'm much obliged to your brother for his confidence," said Mahony
dryly; "but--"

"Wait a minute, Richard! You see, dear, I can't help feeling myself
that you ought not to be too hasty in deciding. Of course, I know I'm
young, and haven't had much experience, but ... You see, you're KNOWN
here, Richard, and that's always something; in England you'd be a
perfect stranger. And though you may say there are too many doctors on
the Flat, still, if the place goes on growing as it is doing, there'll
soon be room for more; and then, if it isn't you, it'll just be some
one else. And that DOES seem a pity, when you are so clever--so much,
much cleverer than other people! Yes, I know all about it; Mrs. Beamish
told me it was you I owed my life to, not Dr. Rogers"--at which Mahony
winced, indignant that anyone should have betrayed to Polly how near
death she had been. "Oh, I DO want people to know you for what you
really are!" said little Polly.

"Pussy, I believe she has ambitions for her husband," said Mahony to
Palmerston.

"Of course I have. You say you hate Ballarat, and all that, but have
you ever thought, Richard, what a difference it would make if you were
in a better position? You think people look down on you, because you're
in trade. But if you were a doctor, there'd be none of that. You'd call
yourself by your full name again, and write it down on the visiting
list at Government House, and be as good as anybody, and be asked into
society, and keep a horse. You'd live in a bigger house, and have a
room to yourself and time to read and write. I'm quite sure you'd make
lots of money and soon be at the top of the tree. And after all, dear
Richard, I don't want to go home. I would much rather stay here and
look after Jerry, a