“No,” said Mr. Dempster, “you have no annuity; you got a sum of money instead.”

Mrs. Peck started at this confident assertion, and coloured indignantly.  “How can you speak so positive about things you can know nothing about?  I have an annuity from another quarter.”

“For valuable services, I suppose,” said Mr. Dempster.  “Well, if you can prove that you are still in receipt of an annuity, and if you can lodge an order to forestall it, I dare say you can get an advance from any Adelaide bill discounter; but I myself would rather not do business with a person who I feel is not to be relied on.”

To put an end to the revelations, true or false, of this unpleasant old woman, Mr. Dempster asked to be shown to bed, as he was tired; and he found his room, though small, was as clean and comfortable as Mrs. Frankland had been used to give to him in her more prosperous days.

Mrs. Peck’s first attempt had failed, though it had appeared very promising.  She thought she would next try Frankland, who, though he was poor, might be victimized to the extent of ten pounds.  She did not think she could affect him by dwelling much on the desire she felt to see her dying daughter, though for the sake of consistency it was mentioned as her motive to get to Melbourne just at this time; but she had several sums of money due to her in Melbourne, and she was afraid, from the letter she had just received, that she would lose them if she kept out of the way; there was nothing like being on the spot—­nothing like prompt measures when one wants to get in money.  Mr. Talbot’s letter was sufficient warrant for her to raise money on Mr. Phillips’s annuity, but not for the purpose of going to Melbourne, which she had unluckily betrayed.  It was also rather disagreeable in its tone, and not likely to inspire confidence in any one who read it.  So she had only her own representations to trust to, and she certainly gave a very minute, and at the same time glowing account of her debtors and her expectations from them; but what with one thing and another she had really never been so hard up in her life.  Peck had not got all his wages for harvesting, and she had been so foolish as to lend a little money in Adelaide, which she feared she could not get back.  Indeed, they had a score at the inn that had lain too long; but if she could only get her own she could pay all and be quite easy.  She spoke of a rate of interest for a trifling advance that rather dazzled Frankland, and he was wondering if he could not manage to raise it, when his wife came into the room, and stopped their talk by saying it was bed-time.  When she was told of Mrs. Peck’s wishes and her offers, Mrs. Frankland peremptorily refused to listen to them, saying they had no money to advance to any one.  Frankland had brought them down low enough in the world by being so free in lending and in spending.  If she had not taken care of the business, and worked early and late, and looked after the money so far