rapidly, unabashed by the stares of the women or the impudent comment of the children.  Nellie, suddenly, felt all her ill-humour turn against him.  He was so satisfied with himself.  He had talked unionism to her when she met him two weeks before, on his way to visit a brother who had taken up a selection in the Hawkesbury district.  He had laughed when she hinted at the possibilities of the unionism he championed so fanatically.  “We only want what’s fair,” he said.  “We’re not going to do anything wild.  As long as we get L1 a hundred and rations at a fair figure we’re satisfied.”  And then he had inconsistently proceeded to describe how the squatters treated the men out West, and how the union would make them civil, and how the said squatters were mostly selfish brutes who preferred Chinese to their own colour and would stop at no trick to beat the men out of a few shillings.  She had said nothing at the time, being so pleased to see him, though she determined to have it out with him sometime during this holiday they had planned.  But somehow, as he stepped carelessly along, a dashing manliness in every motion, a breath of the great plains coming with his sunburnt face and belted waist, he and his self-conceit jarred to her against this sordid court and these children’s desolate lives.  How dared he talk as he did about only wanting what was fair, she thought!  How had he the heart to care only for himself and his mates while in these city slums such misery brooded!  And then it shot through her that he did not know.  With a rapidity, characteristic of herself, she made up her mind to teach him.

“Well, Nellie,” he cried, cheerily, coming up to her.  “And how are you again?”

“Hello, Ned,” she answered, cordially, shaking hands.  “You look as though you were rounding-up.”

“Do I?” he questioned, seriously, looking down at himself.  “Shirt and all?  Well, if I am it’s only you I came to round up.  Are you ready?  Did you think I wasn’t coming?”

“It won’t take me a minute,” she replied.  “I was pretty sure you’d come.  I took a holiday on the strength of it, anyway, and made an engagement for you to-night.  Come in a minute, Ned.  You must see Mrs. Phillips while I get my hat.  You’ll have to sleep here to night.  It’ll be so late when we get back.  Unless you’d sooner go to a hotel.”

“I’m not particular,” said Ned, looking round curiously, as he followed her in.  “I’d never have found the place, Nellie, if it hadn’t been for that pub, near the corner, where we saw that row on the other night.”

The women opposite had suspended their debate upon Mrs. Hobbs’ latest, a debate fortified by manifold reminiscences of the past and possibilities of the future.  It was known in the little street that Nellie Lawton intended taking a holiday with an individual who was universally accepted as her “young man,” and Ned’s appearance upon the stage naturally made him a subject for discussion which temporarily over-shadowed even Mrs. Hobbs’ baby.