Twice, during the day, a rumor was started that a large American ship was signalized, and that she was loaded to her scuppers with grain; but I quickly proved the falsity of the report, and then made my appearance in the store of the largest grain dealers in Melbourne, Messrs. Hennetit & Co., since failed, and didn’t pay their English creditors but sixpence on the pound, and I strongly suspect that American firms suffered worse, even, than that.

“My dear sir,” said Mr. Hennetit, coming forward and shaking my hand with great cordiality, “I have so desired to see you!”

“May I ask on what account?” I replied, with the utmost sang froid, although I was almost bursting with anxiety.

“Why, to tell you the truth—­and I am almost ashamed to confess it—­we sold you more flour than we intended, having several orders to fill, and I thought that if it made no difference to you, we would borrow one hundred barrels, and repay you in the course of a day or two at farthest.  It is not of much importance, but I concluded that I would speak to you in regard to the subject.”

Even while conversing, he led me to his neat and commodious private room, as though the sight of his wealth would soften my heart, and awe me to subjection to his will.

“You see, my dear sir, it is such a trifling matter, that I am almost ashamed to make the request.  I am positively mortified to think that we made such a mistake as to dispose of our whole stock.  However, a ship will be here in a few days, and then we can supply the country at greatly reduced rates.”

I did not interrupt him, but sat patiently, while he was endeavoring to wheedle me out of my speculation.  He displayed the anxiety that he felt, to carry his point, while speaking, and I knew that one of his restless eyes was on me, to read my thoughts, during the interview.

“I am sorry that I cannot accommodate you in this instance,” I answered, “because I bought for the Ballarat market, and the people of that section of the country are in want.  Flour at the mines is selling for sixty pounds per ton, a large advance upon what I paid.”

“O, I don’t mind allowing you a small margin for your trouble.  You paid forty pounds per ton.  I will give you forty-five for a hundred barrels.”

“My dear Mr. Hennetit, it really grieves me to think that I must refuse your offer,” I replied, “but I couldn’t think of selling below the market rates.  If you wish a hundred barrels at fifty-five pounds per ton, I shall be exceedingly happy to accommodate you.”

“Pooh, pooh!” he muttered; “I can’t consider such a thing.  If you think to speculate in flour in this country, you will miss it, and lose your money.”

“Perhaps I shall; but as flour has risen in price since I purchased, I don’t see why I should not reap the benefit of it.”

I bowed courteously to the merchant, replaced my veil, (for during the summer months, when the ground is dry, and the wind blows strong, it is necessary to wear a veil, to protect the eyes from the dust which rises in heavy clouds, and at times obscures the sun like a thunder squall,) and walked off, hoping that I should hear his voice calling me back, but in this I was disappointed.  Mr. Hennetit thought that I would repent, and come to his terms, and so determined to stand the pressure one day more, at all hazards.