“Ullo, hold Favosites Wilkinsonia,” cried the working geologist, swaggering up with a cigar in his mouth, “‘ow’s yer bloomin’ ’ealth?  That hold bloke of a Hirish haint in a ’urry to do the hamiable between ‘is hold guvner’s gal an’ yours truly.  My name, Miss, is Rawdon, Haltamont Rawdon, workin’ geologist and minerologist, and, between you and me and the bedpost, a pretty warm man.”

“Yes; Mr. Rawdon,” replied the pseudo Miss Du Plessis, “you look—­well, not pretty—­but warm.”

“O, dash it hall, that haint wot I meant, Miss Do Please-us; I mean hi’m a man that’s got the dibs, the rhino, the blunt, you know, wot makes the mare go.  I don’t go geologizin’ round for nothin’.”

“You pick up stones, I suppose?”

“Yes; grinstuns, limestun grit, that’s the stuff to make you jolly.”

“I have heard of drawing blood out of a stone, Mr. Rawdon, but never of extracting merriment or exhilaration from a grindstone.”

“Then you don’t know my grinstuns, Miss; they’re full o’ fun.”

“Are they indeed?  How amusing!  In what way does the fun display itself?”

“A bundle of my grinstuns, distributed at a loggin’ bee, a raisin’ bee, or a campaign caucus, ware there’s a lot of haxes to grind, can make more fun than the Scott Act’ll spile in a month.  But silence is silence ’twixt partners, which I opes you and me is to be.”

The fictitious Miss Du Plessis, with much simpering and affectation, quite unworthy of the original, drew the working geologist out, and inspired him with hopes of securing her hand and property.  Mr. Rawdon spoke very freely of the wealth he had in the hand and in the bush, of his readiness to make allowance for Madame Du Plessis, if that “haffable hold gent,” her brother in law, was not prepared to provide for her.  When they reached the house, they found that no one was at home but Tryphena, who was confined to the kitchen by culinary duties.  They, therefore, occupied the parlour, the Grinstun man seeing no impropriety in being there alone with a young lady whom he had met for the first time.  Indeed, he was much gratified to find that the lady was not at all stiff and offish, as he had feared, but as “haffable as her huncle and more.”  The lady laughed, and blushed at loud compliments, as loud as the check of Mr. Rawdon’s clothes, and asked flattering questions, which he answered with a jolliky and recklessness that almost astonished himself.  Was there no romance, no spice of daring in his occupation? she had asked, and he, remembering that he was talking to a soldier’s daughter, who would, doubtless, appreciate courage, replied enigmatically that the grinstun business was about the riskiest business on earth, and required ’eroism of no hordinary kind.

While this conversation was going on, the dominie and the veteran were walking churchward, for, as the former had signified his intention of going to a place of worship, the old man insisted on accompanying him.