tted in to tell old Black he was wanted, and after
Jack had seen him, and arranged to start work next day, we started back
to Solong.

I expected Jack to ask me what I thought of Mary--but he didn't. He
squinted at me sideways once or twice and didn't say anything for a long
time, and then he started talking of other things. I began to feel wild
at him. He seemed so damnably satisfied with the way things were going.
He seemed to reckon that I was a gone case now; but, as he didn't say
so, I had no way of getting at him. I felt sure he'd go home and
tell his wife that Joe Wilson was properly gone on little 'Possum at
Haviland. That was all Jack's way.

Next morning we started to work. We were to build the buggy-house at
the back near the end of the old house, but first we had to take down
a rotten old place that might have been the original hut in the Bush
before the old house was built. There was a window in it, opposite the
laundry window in the old place, and the first thing I did was to take
out the sash. I'd noticed Jack yarning with 'Possum before he started
work. While I was at work at the window he called me round to the other
end of the hut to help him lift a grindstone out of the way; and when
we'd done it, he took the tips of my ear between his fingers and thumb
and stretched it and whispered into it--

'Don't hurry with that window, Joe; the strips are hardwood and hard to
get off--you'll have to take the sash out very carefully so as not to
break the glass.' Then he stretched my ear a little more and put his
mouth closer--

'Make a looking-glass of that window, Joe,' he said.

I was used to Jack, and when I went back to the window I started to
puzzle out what he meant, and presently I saw it by chance.

That window reflected the laundry window: the room was dark inside and
there was a good clear reflection; and presently I saw Mary come to the
laundry window and stand with her hands behind her back, thoughtfully
watching me. The laundry window had an old-fashioned hinged sash, and I
like that sort of window--there's more romance about it, I think. There
was thick dark-green ivy all round the window, and Mary looked prettier
than a picture. I squared up my shoulders and put my heels together and
put as much style as I could into the work. I couldn't have turned round
to save my life.

Presently Jack came round, and Mary disappeared.

'Well?' he whispered.

'You're a fool, Jack,' I said. 'She's only