‘You know, dear,’ murmured Mrs. Haddon.  ’I can’t change Dickie’s nature.  He’s wild, an’ he thinks he’s all kinds of ridiculous people, an’ they lead him into mischief.’

‘Poor Dick!  I shouldn’t have let them beat him,’ said Chris, flushing with indignation.

‘An’ he just as eager for good, you know,’ continued the widow, ’but then nobody makes any fuss over him when he does something really creditable.’

Chris nodded her head reproachfully.  ‘Even father forgets,’ she said.

Miss Chris had enormous faith in her father and a great affection for him, and his want of consideration for the boy who she believed had saved him from much suffering, if not a slow and terrible death, was a trait in his character that gave her a good deal of concern.

‘Dickie thinks a lot of you, Christina,’ said Mrs. Haddon.  ’P’r’aps if you went an’ spoke a few words with him he might be persuaded to overlook what’s past.’

‘Yes, yes,’ said Chris brightly.

‘Tell him how much trouble he is givin’ his poor mother, who’d be alone but for him.  You might dwell on that, my dear, will you?

‘I will, of course; and it’s true, too.’

’It always seems to soften him.  If it doesn’t, you can hint I’m not very well to-night.’

Miss Chris, who stood head and shoulders above her friend, laid an affectionate hand upon the plump and rosy widow.

’When he’s unmanageable other ways I take ill for a little while, you know,’ said the widow mournfully.  ‘Come in,’ she cried in answer to a sharp knock at the door.

The caller was Harry Hardy.  He stopped short in confusion on beholding Christina Shine, and Chris blushed warmly in answering his curt ’Good evening.’

’I called to see Dick ‘bout that tin dish,’ he said, beating his leg with his hat in an obvious effort to appear at his ease.

Mrs. Haddon glanced sharply from Harry to Chris and conceived a new interest.

‘I will go to Dickie,’ said Chris, taking the key from the widow.

Mrs. Haddon explained to Harry when they were alone, and added insinuatingly: 

‘That’s a dear good girl.’

‘Shine’s daughter?’ said Harry with emphasis.

‘Yes, Shine’s daughter, an’ she’s as good as he pretends to be.’

Harry contrived to look quite vindictive and gave no answer, and a minute later Chris returned.  Dick had barred his door on the other side and would give her no reply.

‘The window!’ cried Mrs. Haddon.

Harry hastened out and around the house.  Finding the window of Dick’s room unlatched he threw it up and climbed into the room.  The door was barred with a chair; this he removed, and Mrs. Haddon entered with a candle.  There was no sign of the boy, but pinned on the wall was a large strip of paper on which was written in bold letters: 

’Good-bye for ever.  I’ve run away to be a bushranger.—­Dick Haddon.  P.S.—­Pursuit is useless.’