norance, but spoke in praise
of the Golden City and its assured future.--"This would be most welcome
news to your father, sir. I can picture his satisfaction on hearing it."

--"Golly, Dick, that's no mopoke!" was Purdy's comment as they emerged
into the rain-swept street. "A crafty devil, if ever I see'd one."

"Henry Ocock seems to me to be a singularly able man," replied Mahony
drily. To his thinking, Purdy had cut a poor figure during the visit:
he had said no intelligent word, but had lounged lumpishly in his
chair--the very picture of the country man come up to the
metropolis--and, growing tired of this, had gone like a restless child
to thrum his fingers on the panes.

"Oh, you bet! He'll slither you through."

"What? Do you insinuate there's any need for slithering ... as you call
it?" cried Mahony.

"Why, Dick, old man.... And as long as he gets you through, what does
it matter?"

"It matters to me, sir!"

The rain, a tropical deluge, was over by the time they reached the
hollow. The sun shone again, hot and sticky, and people were venturing
forth from their shelters to wade through beds of mud, or to cross, on
planks, the deep, swift rivers formed by the open drains. There were
several such cloud-bursts in the course of the afternoon; and each time
the refuse of the city was whirled past on the flood, to be left as an
edging to the footpaths when the water went down.

Mahony spent the rest of the day in getting together a fresh load of
goods. For, whether he lost or won his suit, the store had to be
restocked without delay.

That evening towards eight o'clock the two men turned out of the
Lowther Arcade. The night was cold, dark and wet; and they had wound
comforters round their bare throats. They were on their way to the
Mechanics' Hall, to hear a lecture on Mesmerism. Mahony had looked
forward to this all through the sorry job of choosing soaps and
candles. The subject piqued his curiosity. It was the one drop of
mental stimulant he could hope to extract from his visit. The theatre
was out of the question: if none of the actors happened to be drunk, a
fair proportion of the audience was sure to be.

Part of his pleasure this evening was due to Purdy having agreed to
accompany him. It was always a matter of regret to Mahony that, outside
the hobnob of daily life, he and his friend had so few interests in
common; that Purdy should rest content with the coarse diversions of
the ordinary digger.