“I’m told he’s a sort of a farmer,” said one.

“He’s a shearer; I had it from Mrs. Phillips herself,” said another.

“He’s a strapping man, whatever he is,” commented a third.

“Well, she’s a big lump of a girl, too,” contributed a fourth.

“Yes, and a vixen with her tongue when she gets started, for all her prim looks,” added a fifth.

“She has tricky ways that get over the men-folks.  Mine won’t hear a word against her.”  This from the third speaker, eager to be with the tide, evidently setting towards unfavorable criticism.

“I don’t know,” objected the second, timidly.  “She sat up all night with my Maggie once, when she had the fever, and Nellie had to work next day, too.”

“Oh, she’s got her good side,” retorted the fifth, opening her dress to feed her nursing baby with absolute indifference for all onlookers.  “But she knows a great deal too much for a girl of her age.  When she gets married will be time enough to talk as she does sometimes.”  The chorus of approving murmurs showed that Nellie had spoken plainly enough on some subjects to displease some of these slatternly matrons.

“She stays out till all hours, I’m told,” one slanderer said.

“She’s a union girl, at any rate,” hazarded Nellie’s timid defender.  There was an awkward pause at this.  It was an apple of discord with the women, evidently.  A tall form turning the corner afforded further reason for changing the subject.

“Here’s Mrs. Macanany,” announced one.  “You’d better not say anything against Nellie Lawton when she’s about.”  So they talked again of Mrs. Hobbs’ baby, making it the excuse to leave undone for a few minutes the endless work of the poor man’s wife.

And sad to tell when, a few minutes afterwards, Ned and Nellie came out again and walked off together, the group of gossipers unanimously endorsed Mrs. Macanany’s extravagant praises, and agreed entirely with her declaration that if all the women in Sydney would only stand by Nellie, as Mrs. Macanany herself would, there would be such a doing and such an upsetting and such a righting of things that ever after every man would be his own master and every woman would only work eight hours and get well paid for it.  Yet it was something that of six women there were two who wouldn’t slander a girl like Nellie behind her back.

CHAPTER II.

SWEATING IN THE SYDNEY SLUMS.

“Well!  Where shall we go, Nellie?” began Ned jauntily, as they walked away together.  To tell the truth he was eager to get away from this poor neighborhood.  It had saddened him, made him feel unhappy, caused in him a longing to be back again in the bush, on his horse, a hundred miles from everybody.  “Shall we go to Manly or Bondi or Watson’s Bay, or do you know of a better place?” He had been reading the newspaper advertisements and had made enquiries of the waitress, as he ate