e by; they blue their thousand
pounds in Melbourne or Sydney, and they don't make any more nowadays,
for the Roarin' Days have been dead these thirty years. I wish I'd had a
thousand pounds to start on!

Mary's mother was the daughter of a German immigrant, who selected
up there in the old days. She had a will of her own as far as I could
understand, and bossed the home till the day of her death. Mary's
father made money, and lost it, and drank--and died. Mary remembered
him sitting on the verandah one evening with his hand on her head, and
singing a German song (the 'Lorelei', I think it was) softly, as if to
himself. Next day he stayed in bed, and the children were kept out of
the room; and, when he died, the children were adopted round (there was
a little money coming from England).

Mary told me all about her girlhood. She went first to live with a sort
of cousin in town, in a house where they took in cards on a tray, and
then she came to live with Mrs Black, who took a fancy to her at first.
I'd had no boyhood to speak of, so I gave her some of my ideas of what
the world ought to be, and she seemed interested.

Next day there were sheets on my bed, and I felt pretty cocky until
I remembered that I'd told her I had no one to care for me; then I
suspected pity again.

But next evening we remembered that both our fathers and mothers were
dead, and discovered that we had no friends except Jack and old Black,
and things went on very satisfactorily.

And next day there was a little table in my room with a crocheted cover
and a looking-glass.

I noticed the other girls began to act mysterious and giggle when I was
round, but Mary didn't seem aware of it.

We got very chummy. Mary wasn't comfortable at Haviland. Old Black
was very fond of her and always took her part, but she wanted to be
independent. She had a great idea of going to Sydney and getting into
the hospital as a nurse. She had friends in Sydney, but she had no
money. There was a little money coming to her when she was twenty-one--a
few pounds--and she was going to try and get it before that time.

'Look here, Miss Brand,' I said, after we'd watched the moon rise. 'I'll
lend you the money. I've got plenty--more than I know what to do with.'

But I saw I'd hurt her. She sat up very straight for a while, looking
before her; then she said it was time to go in, and said 'Good-night, Mr
Wilson.'

I reckoned I'd done it that time; but Mary told me afterwa