such beautiful things as these,
Mary," and Mrs. Henry let her hands play lovingly with the silk
stockings, her pretty face a-glow with pleasure. "Henry has no
understanding, dear, for the etceteras of a costume. He thinks, if he
pays for a dress or a mantle, that that is enough; and when the LITTLE
bills come in, he grumbles at what he calls my extravagance. I
sometimes wish, Mary, I had kept back just a teeny-weeny bit of my own
money. Henry would never have missed it, and I should have been able to
settle a small bill for myself now and then. But you know how it is at
first, love. Our one idea is to hand over all we possess to our lord
and master." She tried on the satin boots; they were a little long, but
she would stuff the toes with wadding. "If I am REALLY not robbing you,
Mary?"

Mary reassured her, and thereupon a visit was paid to the nursery,
where Mr. Henry's son and heir lay sprawling in his cradle. Afterwards
they sat and chatted on the verandah, while a basket was being filled
with peaches for Mary to take home.

Not even the kindly drapery of a morning-wrapper could conceal the fact
that Agnes was growing stout--quite losing her fine figure. That came
of her having given up riding-exercise. And all to please Mr. Henry. He
did not ride himself, and felt nervous or perhaps a little jealous when
his wife was on horseback.

She was still very pretty of course--though by daylight the fine bloom
of her cheeks began to break up into a network of tiny veins--and her
fair, smooth brow bore no trace of the tragedy she has gone through.
The double tragedy; for, soon after the master of Dandaloo's death in a
Melbourne lunatic asylum, the little son of the house had died, not yet
fourteen years of age, in an Inebriate's Home. Far was it from Mary to
wish her friend to brood or repine; but to have ceased to remember as
utterly as Agnes had done had something callous about it; and, in her
own heart, Mary devoted a fresh regret to the memory of the poor little
stepchild of fate.

The ball for which all these silken niceties were destined had been
organised to raise funds for a public monument to the two explorers,
Burke and Wills, and was to be one of the grandest ever given in
Ballarat. His Excellency the Governor would, it was hoped, be present
in person; the ladies had taken extraordinary pains with their
toilettes, and there had been the usual grumblings at expense on the
part of the husbands--though not a man