ugh which all nature looked so
smiling and sparkling. The kettle was singing on the fire, everything
seemed bright and snug and comfortable indoors. "What in the world has
happened?" I gasped, really frightened.

"Nothing, mem: its only them sheep," sobbed Euphemia, "calling like.
They always makes me cry. Your tea 'll be ready directly, mem" (this
last with a deep sigh.)

"Is it possible you are crying about that?" I inquired. "Yes, mem,
yes," said Euphemia, in heart-broken accents, clasping Lois, who was
positively howling, closer to her sympathetic heart. "Its terrible to
hear 'em. They keeps calling and answering each other, and that makes
us think of our home and friends." Now both these women had starved as
factory "hands" all their lives, and I used to feel much more inclined
to cry when they told me, all unconscious of the pathos, stories of
their baby work and hardships. Certainly they had never seen a sheep
until they came to New Zealand, and as they had particularly mentioned
the silence which used to reign supreme at the manufactory during work
hours, I could not trace the connection between a dingy, smoky, factory,
and a bright spring morning in this delightful valley. "What nonsense!"
I cried, half laughing and half angry. "You can't be in earnest. Why you
must both be ill: let me give you each a good dose of medicine." I said
this encouragingly, for there was nothing in the world Euphemia liked
so much as good substantial physic, and the only thing I ever needed to
keep locked up from her was the medicine drawer.

Euphemia seemed touched and grateful, and her face brightened up
directly, but Lois looked up with her frightful little face more ugly
than usual, as she said, spitefully, "Physic won't make them nasty sheep
hold their tongues. I'm sure _this_ isn't the place for me to find my
luck, so I'd rather go, if you please, mem. I've prospected-up every one
o' them gullies and never seen the colour yet, so it ain't any good my
stopping."

This was quite a fresh light thrown upon the purpose of Lois's long
lonely rambles. She used to be off and away, over the hills whenever she
had finished her daily work, and I encouraged her rambles, thinking the
fresh air and exercise must do her a world of good. Never had I guessed
that the sordid little puss was turning over every stone in the creek in
her search for the shining flakes.

"Why did you think you should find gold here?" I asked.

"Because they do