an eyelash! Thoroughbred!" He said
after a minute or so, "Where's the boss?"

"In Gool-Gool. He won't be home till late."

"Is Mrs Bossier in?"

"No, she's not, but Mrs Bell is somewhere around in front."

"Thanks."

I watched him as he walked away with an easy swinging stride, which spoke
of many long, long days in the saddle. I felt certain as I watched him
that he had quite forgotten the incident of the little girl with the
lemons.

"Sybylla, hurry up and get dressed. Put on your best bib and tucker, and
I will leave Harry Beecham in your charge, as I want to superintend the
making of some of the dishes myself this evening."

"It's too early to put on my evening dress, isn't it, auntie?

"It is rather early; but you can't spare time to change twice. Dress
yourself completely; you don't know what minute your uncle and his
worship will arrive."

I had taken a dip in the creek, so had not to bathe, and it took me but a
short time to don full war-paint--blue evening dress, satin slippers, and
all. I wore my hair flowing, simply tied with a ribbon. I slipped out
into the passage and called aunt Helen. She came.

"I'm ready, auntie. Where is he?"

"In the dining-room."

"Come into the drawing-room and call him. I will take charge of him till
you are at leisure. But, auntie, it will be a long time till dinner--how
on earth will I manage him?"

"Manage him!" she laughed; "he is not at all an obstreperous character."

We had reached the drawing-room by this, and I looked at myself in the
looking-glass while aunt Helen went to summon Harold Augustus Beecham,
bachelor, owner of Five-Bob Downs, Wyambeet, Wallerawang West,
Quat-Quatta, and a couple more stations in New South Wales, besides an
extensive one in Queensland.

I noticed as he entered the door that since I had seen him he had washed,
combed his stiff black hair, and divested himself of his hat, spurs, and
whip--his leggings had perforce to remain, as his nether garment was a
pair of closely fitting grey cloth riding-breeches, which clearly defined
the shapely contour of his lower limbs.

"Harry, this is Sybylla. I'm sure you need no further introduction. Excuse
me, I have something on the fire which is likely to burn." And aunt Helen
hurried off leaving us facing each other.

He stared down at me with undisguised surprise. I looked up at him and
laughed merrily. The fun was all on my side. He was a great big man--rich
and important. I was a c