wo fascinating dimples came and went. The feather from her
riding-hat lay on her neck. Her eyes were the colour of forget-me-nots,
her mouth was red as any rose. She had, too, so sweet and natural a
manner that Polly was soon chatting frankly about herself and her life,
Mrs. Glendinning listening with her face pressed to the spun-glass of
Trotty's hair.

When she rose, she clasped both Polly's hands in hers. "You dear little
woman... may I kiss you? I am ever so much older than you."

"I am eighteen," said Polly.

"And I on the shady side of twenty-eight!"

They laughed and kissed. "I shall ask your husband to bring you out to
see me. And take no refusal. AU REVOIR!" and riding off, she turned in
the saddle and waved her hand.

For all her pleasurable excitement Polly did not let the grass grow
under her feet. There being still no sign of Richard--he had gone to
Soldiers' Hill to extract a rusty nail from a child's foot--Ellen was
sent to summon him home; and when the girl returned with word that he
was on the way, Polly dispatched her to the livery-barn, to order the
horse to be got ready.

Richard took the news coolly. "Did she say what the matter was?"

No, she hadn't; and Polly had not liked to ask her; it could surely be
nothing very serious, or she would have mentioned it.

"H'm. Then it's probably as I thought. Glendinning's failing is well
known. Only the other day, I heard that more than one medical man had
declined to have anything further to do with the case. It's a long way
out, and fees are not always forthcoming. HE doesn't ask for a doctor,
and, womanlike, she forgets to pay the bills. I suppose they think
they'll try a greenhorn this time."

Pressed by Polly, who was curious to learn everything about her new
friend, he answered: "I should be sorry to tell you, my dear, how many
bottles of brandy it is Glendinning's boast he can empty in a week."

"Drink? Oh, Richard, how terrible! And that pretty, pretty woman!"
cried Polly, and drove her thoughts backwards: she had seen no hint of
tragedy in her caller's lovely face. However, she did not wait to
ponder, but asked, a little anxiously: "But you'll go, dear, won't you?"

"Go? Of course I shall! Beggars can't be choosers." "Besides, you know,
you MIGHT be able to do something where other people have failed."

Mahony rode out across the Flat. For a couple of miles his route was
one with the Melbourne Road, on which plied the usual motley traffic