“I got none,” said Brandon; “I suppose mine are sent by Southampton.”

“Well, I don’t think they had good news, or papa’s face looked rather long, and he has been so quiet and dull ever since; so I am in hopes that things are not going very well without him, and then we will have another beautiful long voyage with you, and get back to dear, darling Australia again.  Harriett wants to go back too.”

“What a chatterbox you are, Emily,” said her aunt, who had finished her song.  “It is quite time you were in bed.”

“Not quite, auntie; papa said I might sit up till ten tonight; and Mr. Brandon and I are so busy talking about old times, that I do not feel it a bit late.”

“Old times, indeed,” said Harriett; “what old times can a little chit like you find to talk of?”

“Oh, the dear old times at Wiriwilta, when we were such friends; and, the time that I cannot recollect of when there was the fire, and Peggy and this old fellow saved our lives.  I wish I could remember about it—­mamma does, though.”

“Indeed I do,” said Mrs. Phillips, with a tranquil expression of satisfaction at the thought of the danger she had escaped.  “We was all in terrible danger, and all through that horrid doctor.  Stanley should have let me have my own way, and taken me to Melbourne; but he would not listen to reason.”

“Well, Lily, you are none of the worse now, and I hope you do not feel it burdensome to be so much obliged to our old friend Brandon.”

“Oh no, not at all.”

“You need not be,” said he, laughing; “don’t attempt to make a hero of me:  a mere neighbourly good turn happened to have important consequences.  Peggy’s conduct was far beyond mine.”

“But you were badly scorched,” said Emily.  “Do let us see the scar on your arm once more—­I have not seen it in England.”  Brandon indulged the child; turned up his sleeve, and Emily gave the arm a hug and a kiss.

This was rather a strange exhibition for a drawing-room, Harriett Phillips thought, but Brandon never was much of a gentleman.  Even Stanley had sadly fallen back in his manners in Australia, and what could be expected of Brandon?  Mr. Hogarth had more taste; he had the dignified reserve of a man of birth and fortune; he had made remarks on her musical performance that showed he was really a judge.  It was not often that she had met with any man so variously accomplished, or so perfectly well bred.  He had promised to accompany them to the exhibition of paintings on the morrow, and she had great pleasure in anticipating his society, if it were not for the thought of her bonnet.

Chapter IX.

A Bonnet Gained And A Lover Lost

“My letters have come at last,” said Brandon, next morning, as he joined his friends at breakfast.  “My overseer, I suppose, wanted to show his economy, and posted them by the Southampton mail, which does not suit me at all.  I would rather do without my dinner on mail-day than have my letters delayed for nearly a week.  And now there is bad news for me, I must leave by the first ship.  Had I got my letters when you received yours, I should have gone by the mail steamer and saved a month, but I cannot possibly manage to get off so soon.”