Mrs. Aubrey (who was a very refined young lady) smiled contemptuously, and turned down the corners of her pretty little mouth in a manner that made the unsuccessful duck-farmer boil with suppressed fury, as she remarked that she had heard of some of the shocking stories he had been telling the accountant and cashier of the characters of the people in the South Seas, and she quite understood why he wished to return there and re-associate with his vulgar and wicked companions.  Now, she added, had he stuck bravely to work with the ducks, the Bank (she uttered the word “Bank” in the tone of reverence as one would say “The Almighty”) would have watched his career with interest, and in time his brother would have used his influence with the General Manager to obtain a position for him, Tom Denison, in the Bank itself!  But, judging from her knowledge of his (Tom’s) habits and disposition, she would be doing wrong to hold out the slightest hope for him now, and------

“Look here, Maud, you’re only twenty-two—­two years older than me, and you talk like an old grandmother;” and then his wrath overpowered his judgment—­“and you’ll look like one before you’re twenty-five.  Don’t you lecture me.  I’m not your husband, thank Heaven above!  And damn the bank and its carmine ducks.” (He did not say “carmine,” but I study the proprieties, and this is not a sanguinary story.)

From the weatherboard portals of the bank Tom strode out in undisguised anger, and obtained employment on a collier, discharging coals.  Then, by an extraordinary piece of good luck, he got a billet as proof-reader on the North Queensland Trumpet Call, from which, after an exciting three weeks, he was dismissed for “general incompetency and wilful neglect of his duties.”  So with sorrow in his heart he had turned to the ever-resourceful sea again for a living.  He worked his passage down to Sydney in an old, heart-broken, wheezing steamer named the You Yangs, and stepped jauntily ashore with sixteen shillings in his pocket, some little personal luggage rolled up in his blanket, and an unlimited confidence in his own luck.

Two vessels were due from the South Sea Islands in about a month, and as the skippers were both well known to and were on friendly terms with him, he felt pretty certain of getting a berth as second mate or supercargo on one of them.  Then he went to look for a quiet lodging.

This was soon found, and then realising the fact that sixteen shillings would not permit him viewing the sights of Sydney and calling upon the Governor, as is the usual procedure with intellectual and dead-broke Englishmen who come to Australia with letters of introduction from people who are anxious to get rid of them, he tried to get temporary employment by applying personally at the leading warehouses and merchants’ offices.  The first day he failed; also the second.  On the third day the secretary of a milk company desired him