‘What,’ cried Peterson, ‘throwin’ up your billet?’

‘I’m wanted in England,’ said the master, tapping the paper.

There was a roar at this, which Joel treated with sublime indifference, but curiosity prompted Peterson to examine the paper closely when the teacher had set it aside, and he found the following advertisement: 

’If this should meet the eye of Joel Hamlyn, second brother of Sir Just Hamlyn, of Darnstable, he is hereby informed of the death of his brother and of his succession to the title and estates.  Any information respecting the above Joel Hamlyn will be thankfully received.’  Then followed a description of Joel Hamlyn that was decidedly applicable to Joel Ham, and the address of a firm of Melbourne solicitors.

The schoolmaster said nothing to satisfy the curiosity of his committee, but was more communicative in the presence of Frank Hardy.

‘I am Sir Joel Hamlyn now,’ he said, grinning down at his white moleskins and broken boots.  ’Just and I hated each other like brothers.  He was eminently respectable, I was eminently otherwise.  We parted with mutual satisfaction, but he had two boys when I left England, both of whom have since died, or there would have been no anxious and respectful inquiries for my disreputable self.’

‘Well, I congratulate you,’ said Frank.  ‘It will be an agreeable change.’

‘I do not know,’ said Sir Joel; ’I have got drunk on beer here, I shall get drunk on champagne there That’s all the difference.’

Later, when parting with Frank for good, he said: 

’I have a long journey before me, and I have got to make up my mind in that time in what useful capacity I shall figure in Darnstable teetotal circles, whether as a shining light or a shocking example—­whether, in short, it is better to live respectable or die drunk.’

The people of Waddy never heard what Sir Joel’s conclusion was, but they had an emphatic opinion about his end; which conclusion, however reasonable it may have been in the light of past events, let us hope was the wrong one.

Harry wrote to Chris before twelve weeks had passed:  ’I can stand this parting no longer.  I am coming to you.’  Chris answering him said, ‘Come,’ and he went; and when he returned to Waddy Chris accompanied him.  They were married very quietly at Yarraman a few months later, and Dick Haddon was the only absentee amongst their immediate friends who have figured in this story.  When Harry and Chris were restored to happiness, his interest in them lost its keen edge, but he was considerate enough to send an apology to the bridegroom.

‘Dear Harry,’ he wrote, ’I’m sorry I can’t come and be best man at your wedding, but there is to be a great race to-day—­my grey billy, Butts, against Jacker Mack’s black billy, Boxer, for two pocket-knives and a joey ’possum, owners up—­and of course I couldn’t get away.—­Your mate, Dick.’

THE END