All in good time I arrived at the end of my train journey, and was taken in charge by a big red-bearded man, who informed me he was the driver of the mail-coach, and had received a letter from Mrs Bossier instructing him to take care of me.  He informed me also that he was glad to do what he termed “that same”, and I would be as safe under his care as I would be in God’s pocket.

My twenty-six miles’ coach drive was neither pleasant nor eventful.  I was the only passenger, and so had my choice of seats.  The weather being cold and wet, I preferred being inside the box and curled myself up on the seat, to be interrupted every two or three miles by the good-natured driver inquiring if I was “all serene”.

At the Halfway House, where a change of the team of five horses was affected, I had a meal and a warm, and so tuned myself up for the remainder of the way.  It got colder as we went on, and at 2.30 p.m.  I was not at all sorry to see the iron roofs of Gool-Gool. township disclosing to my view.  We first went to the post office, where the mail-bags were delivered, and then returned and pulled rein in front of the Woolpack Hotel.  A tall young gentleman in a mackintosh and cap, who had been standing on the veranda, stepped out on the street as the coach stopped, and lifting his cap and thrusting his head into the coach, inquired, “Which is Miss Melvyn?”

Seeing I was the only occupant, he laughed the pleasantest of laughs, disclosing two wide rows of perfect teeth, and turning to the driver, said, Is that your only passenger?  I suppose it is Miss Melvyn?”

“As I wasn’t present at her birth, I can’t swear, but I believe her to be that same, as sure as eggs is eggs,” he replied.

My identity being thus established, the young gentleman with the greatest of courtesy assisted me to alight, ordered the hotel groom to stow my luggage in the Caddagat buggy, and harness the horses with all expedition.  He then conducted me to the private parlour, where a friendly little barmaid had some refreshments on a tray awaiting me, and while warming my feet preparatory to eating I read the letter he had given me, which was addressed in my grandmother’s handwriting.  In it she told me that she and my aunt were only just recovering from bad colds, and on account of the inclemency of the weather thought it unwise to come to town to meet me; but Frank Hawden, the jackeroo would take every care of me, settle the hotel bill, and tip the coach-driver.  Caddagat was twenty-four miles distant from Gool-Gool, and the latter part of the road was very hilly.  It was already past three o’clock, and, being rainy, the short winter afternoon would dose in earlier; so I swallowed my tea and cake with all expedition, so as not to delay Mr Hawden, who was waiting to assist me into the buggy, where the groom was in charge of the horses in the yard.  He struck up a conversation with me immediately.

“Seeing your name on yer bags, an’ knowin’ you was belonging to the Bossiers, I ask if yer might be a daughter of Dick Melvyn, of Bruggabrong, out by Timlinbilly.”