“Well, to be sure, that beats cock-fighting; and what does Harris say to all this?”

“Why, in course, he’s off, and I’m in such a quandary,” said Mrs. Smith.

“You wasn’t married to Harris, out and out, was you?” said Mrs. Peck, who had a keen relish for such interesting news as this.

“No; there was two or three things as put it off; but the banns was gave in last Sunday, and I had got my gown for the wedding, and lovely it looks—­and here’s Smith as savage as if he had been writing to me every month and sending me money.”

“I suppose he’s come home as poor as a rat, like the rest of them?” said Mrs. Peck.

“No, no, I cannot just say that,” said Mrs. Smith, relenting a little, “He says he never had no luck till the last six months, and now he has come back with three hundred pounds; and he’s been behaving very genteel with it, I must say, and brought presents for me and for the children—­there’s a shawl for me as is quite a picter—­so rich in the colours; but I can’t say I feel quite pleased at the way he neglected me so long.  And poor Harris, too; I can’t just get him out of my head all at once.”

“That’s natural enough,” said Mrs. Peck with a sympathizing sigh.

Here Mr. Smith came into the shop, and started at the sight of Mrs. Peck.

“Well! who’d have thought of seeing you here, Mrs.?  I don’t rightly recollect your name, but I know you as well as possible,” said he.

“Mrs. Peck is my name,” said she impressively.  “I recollect you well on Bendigo.”

“Many’s the time I’ve seen you there,” said Smith, in an embarrassed tone of voice.  “I hope as how you have your health, Mrs. Peck.  Susan, my dear, you’d better give Mrs. Peck some refreshments.  Step in, Mrs. Peck, I’m just a day home, and I ain’t come back too soon, neither, as it appears.  Susan, my dear, get out the spirit bottle.  Will you have brandy with hot water or cold, Mrs. Peck?”

“With cold this hot day.  I’ve been half baked travelling in that mail omnibus twenty miles, and the wind blowing through it like a flaming furnace; and now your Adelaide dust is making me as grimy as I’m not fit to be seen,” said Mrs. Peck, wiping her face with her handkerchief, and watching how Smith mixed her brandy and water.  “There’s nothing pleases me like meeting with an old friend.”

“Nor me,” said Smith, “if so be as she is friendly.  Now, Susan, sit down and have a glass with us.  Why, the woman looks handsomer nor the day I married her.  I don’t wonder at the risk I ran of being choused out of you; but it was rather too bad, too, was it not, Mrs. Peck?  If my letters hadn’t a miscarried you would never have thought of such a thing, Susan,” said he, with an insinuating smile, handing his wife a mixture similar to that he presented to his old friend.

“If they had been written there would have been no fear of their miscarrying,” said she rather sulkily.