A PAIR OF YOUNG FOOLS.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume IX, Issue 52, 24 December 1892, Page 1270

A PAIR OF YOUNG FOOLS.

fER name «as Betty! Betty, plain and unadorned, and there was no use trying to blink ti e fact. There it was staring unblushingly at you if you cared to take the trouble 10 turn over the blue pages of the parish register as far back as the year 1872. Betty Bartholemew ! Oh, horrible ! Could' anything have made Bartholemew a worse name to labour and live under than it was au naturel it was to have Betty planted unalterably down before it. And it was all her wretched old godmothei’s fault. She had been asked to stand as godmother, not because Mr or Mrs Bartholemew liked her, or indeed could even endure her, to tell the truth, but for three very simple and good reasons — she was Mrs Bartholemew’s maternal aunt, she was wealthy, and she was old, and it

was more than probable that the old woman would be dead long before Betty was old enough to have much to do with her, and then—well, she must leave her money to someone, and why not her godchild ; so argued Mrs Bartholemew, and Mr Bartholemew was dumb before the simplicity and truth of the argument. Bless you, she knew well enough why she was asked to stand 1 ‘ Ha ha !’ she said, in her harsh, strident voice, and she laughed aloud. ‘ M ant my money for her, eh? Well, well, I'm sure that imprudent fool of a father of hers will never have any to leave her, so I don’t mind saying I’ll provide for her future.’ Mrs Bartholemew’s eyes filled with tears of delight and rewarded diplomacy. ‘ Yes,’ continued Miss Lainach, what?’ questioned Mrs Bartholemew, anxiously. • She must be called after me Betty plain and simple, and nothing else—no fine names tacked on to smother a good honest one.’ • Betty!’ gasped Mrs BartholeIll< ‘And why not?’ demanded Miss Lainach, wrathfully. • Betty Bartholemew ! repeated Mrs Bartholemew, faintly, tears of woe being very near her eyes now. • Betty Bartholemew, or not one penny of my money does she ever see,’ said the dreadtul old woman, slapping her knee emphatically. ‘And may I ask why, it the name Betty was good enough for my mother and grandmother, and is good enough for me,’ she continued, drawinghergaunt formupwith ‘pride in her port, defiance in her eye, ‘ for me,’ with intense emphasis, ‘it is not good enough for that chit of a thing,’ pointing scornfully one bony forefinger at the sleeping unconscious infant. ‘Bah 1’ she ended, ‘Betty or nothing I say,’ and as she said so it was, and Betty she was to the end of the chapter. In spite of the heavy handicap ot the name she bore, she grew .up a very dear Betty, and a very pretty Betty, too. A girl with great wonderful eyes of blue, with a pretty rounded chin, and a dear ter.dei little mouth, with beautiful brown hair flecked with gobi, and with a pale creamy conq lexion. Decidedly a desil able Betty, and decidedly worthy of a more cultured name. Mrs Bartholemew had not lived to see how she would manage to survive the infliction either, for when Betty was a tiny child of three, it was not Miss Larnach who died as had been confidently expected of her, but both Mr and Mis Bartho emew within one year, and then this quaint old gcd mother had taken possession of the child. And Betty flourished under her rule and learned to love the good old lady who called a spade a spade indeed, but whose bark was so much worse than her bite, and who, in s| i e of her would-be harsh wolds and voice,

Isvi-heil on her god-child all the love and tenderness that had been smouldering in her heart, waiting for a vent, for fifty years. But, unfortunately, for all concerned Miss Larnach loved Betty with a jealous—l might almost call it miserly-love that would brook no rivals, either male or female. And this iealous love it was that was the cause of Betty s first grea. woe And this is how it happened. Every Sunday morning Miss Larnach marched—l sav marched advisedly, for that desciibes Mise Larnach’s walk—herself and Betty up Symonds street, along Ky her Pass, and into St. Sepulchre’s Church. Sunday after Siiuday, rain or shine, summer in and winter out, had she done this since Betty was live years old, and Betty had trotted on her little legs beside her, aud by-aud bye, as she grew older, had learned

to keep pace with her swift graceful step to the old lady’s r tride. And there came at last the day that she attained the mature age of and then Betty became a woman indeed. Her birthday fell on a Wednesday, and on the Sunday following the congregation of St. Sepulchre’s—such of them as were not too devoutly inclined to use their eyes—were electrified by the sight of the little girl they had seen for years suddenly grown up into a young lady. Betty walking up the dim aisle in a pure white dresr that fell softly around her—Betty, with her beautiful brown hair fastened up on top of her shapely little head, and on top of that again a hat made solely of white ostrich feathers, soft and lovely—Betty, with her prayer book held tightly in her little hands, and a touch of slightly conscious colour in her usually pale cheeks, and her wondeiful eyes shining joyously and seeming to brighten the whole church ; while, as a magnificent foil, there walked in front of her Miss Lar-

nach—a black gaunt figure—seeming like some rough old wall, against which a beautiful white flower had mistakenly nestled itself. , , , Now there had happened to come to St. Sepuichre s Church that morning a young man named Richard Bruce, who was not in the habit of going to church, at any rate in the mornings, but had, one may say, strayed in by accident, or perhaps Fate had sent him there. Who knows? Suflice it to say that Dick—no one ever called Dick Richard by any chance unless he bore him a grudge, and very few did that —had come, had seated himself in the pew next Miss Ltrnach’s, had seen and had been conquered. It dtdn t take two minutes to do. He stared at the beautiful little apparition with both his eyes-and very handsome eyes

they were too—and Betty looking up saw the admiration written in them, and a lovely delicate rose colour Hooded her cheeks and made the blue eyes seem bluer than ever, and it was all over for Dick. I don't say he tried to behave with propriety, I only know that if he tried he failed signally. He sat sideways on his seat and stared at Betty on every possible and impossible occasion. When there was nothing more to be seen than one small pink ear and a soft mass of waving hair and curly tendrils of gold that waved about the ear and back of her neck, then he stared at that and waited till she lifted her head and let him see the smooth rounded cheek again. Indeed, so atrociously did he behave, that at last Miss Larnach, who rarely raised her eyes from the enormous church service she held, felt the fascination of his gaze, and raising her head peered through her heavy gold-rimmed spectacles and caught him. To say she glared at him would be to put it mildly. If looks could kill Dick Bruce’s corpse would have been carried out through the church door long before the sermon began. But on Dick they had less than no effect. He didn’t even see them, his whole time and energies being absorbed in looking at Betty. At last Miss Lainach got into a towering passion and whispered to Betty, in tones that were fierce and could be heard at least two seats away, • Change places with me,’ and when Betty meekly obeyed she stood like a dragon between this wolf, in black coat and irreproachable grey trousers ami white linen, and her pet lamb. * Insufferable young coxcomb, idiot, nincompoop I’ she

stormed angrily to herself, sending lightning glances of rage at Dick, who craned bis neck to catch a glimpse of Betty, and was plainly delighted at the fury the old lady was in ; and the rest of the service was wasted on Miss Larnach, whose heart wasfull of anything but charity towards at least one of her brethren that day. The instant she could with decency leave the church, she pushed her way out through the crowd, taking no notice whatever of the greetings of her friends and acquaintances, and seizing Betty by the arm in spite of her open remonstrances, almost dragged her home out of the way of danger, little dreaming that Dick followed them all the way only cautiously taking another path that ran along inside the churchyard, and watched till he saw them enter the home that sheltered this beautiful little vision. • My word,’ he muttered, drawing in a deep breath as the gate in the high close fence finally bid her from view, ‘the prettiest gill I’ve ever seen I’ (and Dick, let me tell you, considered himself a connoisseur on this subject) ; then he continued, frowni g darkly, ‘ as for the old lady if she thinks she’ll stop me she’s mistaken. What an old warrior it is too.’

After that day Dick found it necessary to walk along City Road both morning and evening on his way to and from the Bank. How Betty came to know of it I do not know, but certain it is that she did. Useless for Miss Larnach to insist on a gossamer veil the next Sunday, Dick sat in the same seat, and Betty blushed again, and the lovely colour shone softly through the shimmering gossamer and simply maddened Miss Larnach. It always took two days for the poor old lady to even partially recover her equilibrium after the Sunday encounter, and one Monday morning being still seething with rage, she had occasion logo into town to cash a cheque at the bank. Picture her horror, if you can, when there confronted her from the opposite side of the counter, with a smiling face and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, this very Dick. Miss Larnach had only time to thank Heaven that she never took Betty into any offices with her, when she found herself face to face with Dick, who was regarding her with a mock air of deference infinitely provoking to her iiate soul. ‘ I want the teller,’ she said stonily, fixing Dick with a basilisk stare. D.ck bowed politely and waited. ■I want the teller, young man,’ she repeated in tones of concentrated rage. * I have the honour to be acting teller,’ Dick replied, cheerfully. • What can I do for you ?’ •You teller, indeed,’ very scornfully. * I don’t believe it,’ flatly. * Sorry for that,’ returned Dick, totally unabashed at being given the lie direct in this fashion. * Perhaps

you wouldn’t mind asking the accountant then. Miss Larnach took him at his word, and stamped along to the accountant’s box, when she demanded to know if Dick were authorised to pay away money. The accountant said apologetically that he was. The influenza had deprived them of so many of their officers, he regretted extremely (for the accountant was a nervous man and didn’t like the look in Miss Larnach’s eyes, and was rather glad the counter was between them), and then she flatly refused to be paid a farthing by Dick. • If you think a woman of my age is going to be insulted by any young idiot you choose to put in a position of trust, youaremistaken.’sheannonncedcalmly. ‘1 shallnotdobusiness with a6oy,’ with unutterable contemptexpressed inevery

feature, and so saying she brought her umbrella down with a little angry thwack on the floor, wishing the while no doubt that Dick were grovelling beneath it, and fancying she had annihilated both this newly-pledged teller and the accountant, she turned her back and departed. * Good-morning, Miss Larnach,’ called Dick after her, and she heard a badly-smothered laugh from those who had been standing about, which made her so angry that for once words failed her completely. When she had gone Dick put in a bad quarter-of an-hour indeed in his new billet. One and all had some cbaff about his new admirer to hurl at him, some witty remark to make at his expense, till even his sunny temper revolted, and to revenge himself on the author of his trouble he stood twenty minutes in front of her gate that evening, and was rewarded by catching sight of her Betty through the rail. After she seemed finally to have disappeared he came to the conclusion that there was nothing more to be gained by waiting, especially as Miss Larnach was not there to be * taken a rise out of,’ so off he went. He hadn’t gone fifty yards before he noticed a figure coining swiftly towards him in the gathering dusk, and as it approached he saw it suddenly stumble and fall heavily. He ran quickly forward, the instinct to help being uppermost at once, and discovered—Miss Larnach. * Oh, mine enemy, have I found thee ?’ quoth he inwardly, but he raised her gently enough from the ground, and tried to get her on her feet, whereupon she promptly fainted, and then Dick found himself in a pretty plight indeed. He unceremoniously laid heron the narrow footpath and made a hasty examination, which showed that her ankle was broken, so being a strong young fellow he picked her up in his muscular arms and carried her home. Betty dame running out to meet Miss Larnach as she thought, and when she saw what had happened—well what need was there for an introduction between these two? and why should Betty not thank him.

with tears of gratitude in her pretty eyes for what he had done and for bringing the doctor so quickly ? And why should she not let him take her hand to say good-bye, and after what he had done could she refuse him permission to call and see how Miss Larnach was the following day ? Could she, I ask you ? • Yes,’ you say, Mrs Grundy. Ah, well, she didn’t ! She looked across the waters of Waitemata, and her eyes were fixed on the peaks of Rangitoto shrouded in kingly purple, and touched w th just one last quivering ray from the setting sun, and she flushed a little again and answered ‘yes.’ And Dick went home jubilant, inclined to think that Dame Fortune had spun her net aright for him at least, however contrary she might be to the world at large. The following afternoon he called full of inquiries and sympathy, but, to his disgust, was encountered at the door by a female of a pronounced type of old maid—very prim and sour, and starched-topped by a mob cap such as our great grandmother’s waiting-maids wore. For a moment he was nonplussed, then he rose to the occasion, and in tones of wild anxiety, meant to insinuate himself into the good graces of this new and unexpected guardian of bis angel, Dick inquired, * How is Miss Larnach to-day ?’ The old woman did not appear impressed either with Dick’s anxiety or his handsome face. • She’s very bad,’she answered, then Hung him a * thanks ’ and tried to shut the door. But curiously enough Dick’s stick had inserted itself into the crack of the door, and it remained hospitably open in spite of its janitor. * And the young lady, how is she ?’ Dick ventured in spite of the sour face. * Miss Betty hasn’t broken her ankle,’ was the snappish retort, and this time, in very fear for his highly-polished Malacca cane, Dick withdrew his stick and the door shut in his face. Was he disconcerted ? Not at all. He tried again nextday and with better luck, for he met Betty in the garden and made enquiries from her, and Betty thought he had the kindest heart in the world, and told' him that she was nursing the bld lady herself, but that every evening at five o’clock she was sent into the garden for fresh air while Hannah took her place. * Auntie is afraid I will get freckles if I go out earlier,’

she said to this tall young man who looked at her with such a strange disconcerting look in his eyes, ami Betty laughed joyouslv and her blue eyes fairly danced with merriment, and Dick was almost too dazzled to speak. * Freckles—you !’ he exclaimed, and Betty laughed again at his tone, so merrily that a blackbird in the tree above her head caught the infection and burst into his song of rapture and joy, pouring forth his liquid notes and trills and shakes till his glossy throat swelled and swelled, and our most famous singer might well have felt herself eclipsed had she heard. But neither Dick nor Betty noticed or envied him his song. She was thinking what a goodly young man this was and how big and strong, and he was thinking, well yes, how sweet and fresh she was, and how very much he would like to kiss her curved red lips. Well, of course it was all very dreadful, bnt the fact remains that Dick called daily for a month to inquire after Miss Larnach’s health, and daily timed his visits so that he and Bitty had a chat before he left. Miss Larnach knew that a Mr Bruce had come to her rescue and brought her home on that fateful evening, and she also heard that he had called to inquire for her ; bnt little did the poor lady think that this attentive Good Samaritan was her enemy at whose very sight her whole being had been wont to quiver with indignation and alarm, and knew still less that the worst had come and gone—that Dick had stolen Betty’s heart away and that never again would the old aunt and godmother be first with her. Hard? Yes. But the fate of all is to bear it in silence, oh displaced ones, grim silence if it must be, but still silence. Now it happened one afternoon that Dick had been kept a little late at work, so was later than usual in finding his way to City Road, and Betty had waited and waited inside the high fence and under shadow of the friendly tree that had chaperoned, and whispered over, and sighed upon their

courtship, till a rather wistful look had crept into her great eyes, for she thought he would not come that day ; so that when the gate suddenly opened and Dick came in, radiant with delight, and health, and youth, and love, all the wistfulness died away and a great glory of surprise and delight filled them in its stead. And he, seeing this light and reading it as he wished to read it, hesitated no longer, but throwing to the wind all those thoughts of right ami wrong which till now had troubled his conscience just a little, he took Betty in his arms and kissed her. ‘ Oh, Dick !’ she said with a little gasp, half-fear, halfpleasure, and the blue eyes filled witn tears. •My darling 1 my darling !’ was all the audacious Dick answered, and kissed her again and again, having once found out the way, and knowing that there could be, for him, nothing more blissful than that in this great, wide world. • Dick ! Dick !’ she said again, trying just a little to free herself, • how dreadful 1’ ‘ Dreadful !’ he exclaimed. ‘ Betty look at me and tell me. No, look straight. Let me see your eyes, my darling,’ kissing them each in turn. ‘D > yon love me ?' And Betty, casting from her even the shadow of coquetry or shyness, looked straight into the face she loved, and answered ‘ Yes ’ with all her heart. ‘Better than anyone in the world?' asked Dick, who, manlike, the more he got the more he wanted. ‘ Yes,’ she said softly. ‘And will you always, for ever and ever?’ he asked, jealously. • For ever and ever, Dick,’she answered stedfastly, and her true pure eyes seemed to echo ‘for ever and ever ’ till even Dick was satisfied. So they two sat beneath the tree hand in hand and watched the evening light fall over Auckland city, and the last streaks of sunlight turn the tall windows below them into great glittering stars of gold. They sat almost in silence till the light left the town and inept across the water leaving only dim greyness behind, then left the water in shadow, and finally touched the peaks of Ringitoto once more, and at last faded quite away and other lights took its place, and began to glimmer. The North Shore Ferry steamed slowly across the dark water, their lights looking like moveable red stars and the wharves and

Queen-street were lit up with rows of faintly dancing gaslights. • Batty,’ said Dick, suddenly, *of course we must get married.' ‘ Yes, Dick,’ she answered obediently. • You know I’m awfully hard up,’ he went on ; * haven't a couple of sixpences to rub against each other.’ Betty patted his hand comfortingly (what did money matter to her who had never known the want of it) and Dick took possession of the hand and kissed it many times. • But it will be all right soon,’ he said confidently. • Betty, if I tell you a secret, promise you’ll never tell anybody.’ • Yes Dick.’ • If you did I should lose my billet,' he explained, ‘ and then it would be all u-p. and Miss Larnach would never consent to my having you for my little wife.’ ‘ But I will marry you,’ said Betty, already quite prepared to do battle for the sake of this lover of hers. ‘ My darling little girl,’ said Dick rapturously, ‘ I believe you will ; but now for the secret. We bought a racer ’ ‘ A what?’ she questioned. ‘ A racehorse,’ he explained, ‘a real stunner she is too,’ he went on eagerly. ‘ I’d like you to see her awfully. She’s got the iolliest little head you ever saw. But I’d be chucked out of the bank if they knew, because we’re not allowed to be on the turf.' ‘ Perhaps you shouldn’t then, Dick,’ she said doubtfully, a little aghast at this defiance to rules. ‘Of course I should, my pet,’ Dick returned lazily. •If a poor devil is in a bank without a chance to make any money, why he must do it somehow, you see, and racing is the only way I see an opening in at present.’ • Will the races be soon,' Betty asked, satisfied that what Dick said must be right, and that the bank was a foolish affair that need be taken no notice of.

• Yes, next week,’ Dick said ; * the Takapuna meeting, you know. It’s a moral shell win, and I'm going to lay every shilling I’m worth on it, and hang the consequences.’ ‘ I do hope she’ll win, Dick,’ Bstty sai I, earnestly. ‘ By Jove and so do I I* replied Dick, and there was a grim sound in his words. ‘lf she doesn’t—but she must.’ The day came. The racily inclined turned out in full force, and packed the small steamers dangerously on their way to the Takapuna race course. The races were duly run, and Betty wore a locket with Dick’s photo inside tied round her neck with the two shades of blue ribbon that he had bought her (the colours his jockey’s coat and cap were made of), but alas I Myrmidon did not pull it off. Far from it indeed, and poor Dick's soul turned sick within him. For a whole week he hugged his disgust ami misery tightly to himself. For the whole of those seven long days, that seemed an eternity of time to Betty, he kept away from City Road, only sending her two short notes that nearly broke her heart. She couldn't go and look for Dick and comfort him, and he wouldn’t come to her and be comforted, and there was no one she could confide her grief to, no one who could act the fairy godmother and make matters smooth again for her, and Betty's cup was nearly full of woe At last he came. It was one evening just at the old hour, and Betty had been sitting miserably under the same old tree looking at the same old view she had looked at as long as she could remember, and feeling thoroughly heartsick and tired of it all. I wish,’ she said to herself, ‘ I wish I could go away somewhere, right away from it all. I wish I could never see Ringitoto, or that hateful cut to pieces North Head, or the fl igstaff again in all my life. Oh Dick I Dick!' and the olfen ling lligstalf and Ringitoto were blurred and indistinct, for there was a mist in Betty's blue eyes. And just then the gate opened—opened and shut sharply, and the step that Bettv would have known among a hundred came up the little (light of stone steps, and there rang across the garden one short glad cry of love and welcome, an-l B rtty was in her Dick’s arms again and all the pain and wretchedness were forgotten —forgotten, that is, for a minute, until he loosed her, and she saw his face, haggard, worn, tired, and hopeless.

* Betty,' he said, sharply, and his very voice was haggard, • I want to see Miss Larusch.’ ‘Auntie’’ she questioned, surprised, then added ‘Yes Dick,’ and together they went up the long white shelly path bordered on either side with glowing Hower beds, with here and there a tall feathery tree fern, and one or two stiff Oriental looking nikau palms, then into the deep verandah and through the open French doors into the pretty sittingroom where Miss Laruach lay through the long summer days. * Auntie,’ said Betty, softy and simply, * this is Mr Bruce.’ Now when Miss Larnach saw Dick, for a second the old enmity arose within her, hut she perhaps was softened by pain and suffering, or perhaps she saw the look in Dick’s young face even as Betty had seen it. ‘ I am glad of the opportunity of thanking— ’ she began very stiffly. * Miss Larnach,’ broke in Dick. ‘ I have come to tell you something—something I should have told you long ago, but then I had hope and now I have none. I love Betty.’ He had certainly said it in the fewest possible words, but in spite of her fears Miss Larnach had not anticipated this avowal, and it came upon her like a shower of cold water. ‘ Love Betty ! you dare !’ she gasperl, and what was that ? Could it be her Betty, her child, who bad stepped forward and taken Dick’s hand in her soft little clasp’ ‘And I think she loved me,’ he went on, ‘but it is all over. I was never very rich, but now—well,’ laughing roughly and unmirthfully—‘ now I am a pauper. I have been asked to send iu my resignation to the bank for breaking rules, and to get another billet here just now would be impossible for a fellow like me without any interest, so I am going away.’ Before Miss Larnach could express her delight at this announcement, almost before she had time to think it, she was paralyzed by the sight of Betty clinging tightly with both arms round Dick’s neck, and sobbing wildly, ‘ You shan’t go away, Dick, you shall not go away.’ I draw a veil over the scene that followed—how Betty was ordered to her own room and solitary confinement ; how Dick faced Miss Larnach and gave her his valuable opinion of her conduct in no measured language ; how he told Betty he was going gumdigging till something better turned up, and when it did he would marry her and release her from the custody of a she dragon ; nor how Betty kissed him again and again before Miss Larnach’s very horrified face, and promised to write to him every day and love him for ever Well, it was over at last. Dick had gone—gone, Betty felt, to an awful, a miserable fate. Miss Larnach had stormed and raged and called them both a couple of young fools more times than I could say, and Betty had shut herself up in her room and cried herself nearly blind over the loss of her Dick and the heartlessness of old maids, who never loved anyone them reives so didn’t know. But of course this kind of thing couldn’t go on for ever. Jn course of time Betty came out of her room and took np the duties of life again, nuising and waiting on Miss Larnach, and wondering sometimes why the old lady’s eyes looked so strangely full of woe when they rested on her. Was it a wonder? Did she not see her Betty, the child of her heart, daily growing thinner? Was not the old light footfall slow and listless now? Had not the bright light faded out of the blue eyes that once had been so bright? Matter enough to trouble her indeed. At last she spoke, roughly certainly, but at least it broke the ice : ‘ What is that young fool doing ?’ she asked. Betty knew well enough of whom she spoke, but didn’t choose to recognise Dick under this title. ‘I beg your pardon,’she said, and Miss Larnach wondered how Betty had learned to put ice in her voice, and such dignity into her cold little face. ‘ What is Mr Bruce doing?’ Mi’s Larnach amended. ‘ He—he is digging gum at Kaipara,’ Betty answered, with a sob in her throat and a quiver of her lips. Miss Larnach looked at her in silence for some time, looked till she saw two big slow tears steal out fiom under the long lashes and trickle slowly down the pale cheeks, and she saw the hands that held the ‘History of the French Revolution ’ shake a little. ‘Did you care for him—much ?’ she asked, abruptly. ‘ Oh, auntie,’ Betty cried with a gieat sob this time. ‘Betty,’ said the old woman, in a shaking voice, ‘am I nothing to you now ?’ Betty was on her knees beside the sofa in one moment. • Oh, auntie, dear,’ she said, softly. ‘ I love you as much as ever, but Dick—oh, I do so love Dick, but it is a different love. Ob, auntie, dear, do let him come home again, and let me see him once, only once, auntie, or my heart will break.’ * Tut, tut,’said Miss Larnach, giving a little suspicious sniff herself. ‘And lie wants me dieadfully, auntie,’ Betty continued, seeing she had an opening now. * I will let you read bis letter.’ * I won't read it,’ said Miss Larnach, obstinately. ‘ I don’t want to read all the tiash a young idiot chooses to write.’ But in spite of herself almost she took it, and this is what she read : My Dk*r Little Love.—Your beautiful little letter came duly to hand C been writing, has she.'grunted Miss Larnach. very nearly' irate again! You can t tell what a comfort it is to hear from my darling in this miserable hole. You say you want to know what 1 do all day. In the first place we start by getting out of our bunks and cooking our breakfast. The chimney smokes no end, and it's jolly horrible. Mymateand I take turns todo the cooking. I'm no end of a hand at making bread now. but matey beats me hollow'. Perhaps his blue blood helps him. for he’s a real swell—son of a Duke or Earl or some of that lot. Wo don't, think much of that though up this wav. It’s all the same who your grandfather was in Kaipara. I can tell you. One of our lot heard last week that he had come in for a title—he’s gone off’to get it. I don't, think he'll adorn it much though, unless he gives up a little bad habit he's got.. Oh. 1 was going to tell you w e had a visit one day from some brutesof pigs, belong ng to the Maori*, and they finished off the oatmeal and bread and potatoes, and indeed all the stores, so now wo have to hiteh everything up to the roof before we go out. We are in a sort of wliare. not. a tent you know —after breakfast we go out—you wouldn't know mo If you saw me in the shabby clothes I dig in, Betty. I have a look round to see if there's a likely spot about. Then we sit, down and have a smoke and yarn, because you see there s nothing to encourage you to start work for. unfortunately, the gum doesn’t, lie on top of the curt h looking at. a fellow, but has to la* gone after. Beat hard work it. is too sometimes (‘ Do him goo i ’ Interjected Miss I-arnach). Oh it’s a dreary life I can tell you. ]n theevening we make npa huge log tiro. 1 ait before itand think of my little girl so faraway, and sometimes 1 feel that my heart will burst with longing to see her dear face again. Betty, darling. I must give you up. Some lucky beggar will get you and

make you a good husband I hope. If he does not he'll have me to reckon with, my sweetheart. It is seltish of me to keep you tied to me through all the best years of your life ; I can hear of nothing to do in town, and as for gumdigging—well it is right enough for those fellows who only live for to day, and work just till they earn a big enough cheque to make it worth while to go off on the spree—but foi me I What a mad fool I was. my darling, chucking away the substance for the shadow indeed. Good-bye ray little girl, my sweetheart, from Dick. Mias Larnach gave an audible ‘linin’ as she finished this love letter, and in return Betty gave an audible sob from the window seat where she was miserably curled np, and the sob melted completely the last hard thought in the old godmother’s heart. ‘ Perhaps he is a good fellow after all,’she thought, ‘ and Betty loves him I’ and then she said aloud—does it matter what she said ? I think not. All that mattered to Betty was that five days later she stood at that window again and Dick stood beside her and held her hand in his, and Betty’s face was all sunlight and joy again. For was not Dick with her? was he not now the possessor of a billet, worth infinitely more than the one he had lost, and gained for him by Miss Larnach. •If a woman like me with £50,000 to hack her up,’ she had said with a haughty air, ‘couldn’t get a yonng man a billet in Auck land !' and there was a huge contempt for Auckland finances in her voice. Well, the £5O 000 had done the deed very probably, and Auckland not being accustomed to such magnificence every day had succumbed before it, and provided the black sheep with a billet. Were not. the gumfields and the shabby clothes, and the miserable parting, only a wretched memory of the past, and had not Dick foresworn all such deadly fiivolities as horse-racing once and forever ? Yes—and even as they stood hand in hand they heard a little choke from the sofa, and before the choke got any further Betty was beside the couch, and the soft yonng arms were round the withered old neck, and the soft lips kissing the trembling ones they touched. Aye ! and Dick —the graceless Dick, the cause of all this woe—held one of the wrinkled old hands and kissed it, too. Perhaps he felt a brnte, as of course he should have done. Who knows ? Perhaps he felt that he ami Betty were a pair of yonng fools, as Miss Larnach had so often said ; but I think not. No 1 It wasn’t like Dick ; and was he not looking at his Betty across the bent old head between them?