"Well, what is it?" she inquired, appearing in the doorway.

"Next time Sybylla is giving a tramp some tucker, you keep a sharp eye on
her or she will be sloping one of these days. There was a young fellow
here today with a scarlet moustache and green eyes, and she's dean gone
on him, and has been bullying me to give him half Caddagat."

"What a disgusting thing to say! Uncle, you ought to be ashamed of
yourself," I exclaimed.

"Very well, I'll be careful," said aunt Helen, departing.

"What with the damned flies, and the tramps, and a pesky thing called
Sybylla, a man's life ain't worth a penny to him," said uncle.

We fell into silence, which was broken presently by a dirty red-bearded
face appearing over the garden gate, and a man's voice:

"Good day, boss! Give us a chew of tobaccer?"

"I'm not the boss," said uncle with assumed fierceness.

"Then who is?" inquired the man.

Uncle pointed his thumb at me, and, rolling out on the floor again as
though very sleepy, began to snore. The tramp grinned, and made his
request of me. I took him round to the back, served him with flour, beef,
and an inch or two of rank tobacco out of a keg which had been bought for
the purpose. Refusing a drink of milk which I offered, he resumed his
endless tramp with a "So long, little missy. God bless your pleasant
face."

I watched him out of sight. One of my brothers--one of God's children
under the Southern Cross. Did these old fellows really believe in the God
whose name they mentioned so glibly? I wondered. But I am thankful that
while at Caddagat it was only rarely that my old top-heavy thoughts
troubled me. Life was so pleasant that I was content merely to be young--a
chit in the first flush of teens, health, hope, happiness, youth--a
heedless creature recking not for the morrow.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

When the Heart is Young

About a week or so after I first met Harold Beecham, aunt I V Helen
allowed me to read a letter she had received from the elder of the two
Misses Beecham. It ran as follows:

"My dearest Helen,

"This is a begging letter, and I am writing another to your mother at the
same time. I am asking her to allow her grand-daughter to spend a few
weeks with me, and I want you to use your influence in the matter. Sarah
has not been well lately, and is going to Melbourne for a change, and as
I will be lonely while she is away Harold insists upon me having someone
to keep me company--you know how