Peggy shook hands with her old master, and gazed at him with great surprise.

“Surely, these are not the bairns you used to speak of?” said Mr. Brandon, looking at the Misses Melville with astonishment quite equal to hers.

“No; the bairns are all at the school—­all but Tam—­and he’s at his trade, but they will be here for their dinners directly.  These are two young ladies that have taken a room off me.  They are no so well off as they should be, more’s the pity,” said Peggy, lowering her voice.

“I met them last night at a party.  How do you do, Miss Melville?” said he, shaking hands with Elsie first, and then with Jane.

“But what brought you here on this day?” said Peggy.

“Just your elbows, Peggy.  I was coming to see you at any rate, but I did not think you were here.  You must have shifted your quarters.  Here is your address,” said Mr. Brandon, taking out his pocket-book—­“’Peggy Walker, at Mr. Thomas Lowrie’s, Swinton, ----- shire.’  I was going to see you to-morrow, but you have saved me a journey to no purpose.”

“I brought the bairns into the town for better schooling, and on account of Tam; and grandfather finds it agrees brawly with him, too.  Grandfather,” said Peggy, raising her voice, “this is Master Brandon that you have heard me speak about whiles—­the first master I had in Australia.”

Grandfather expressed his sense of the politeness of Mr. Brandon in coming all that way to see Peggy.  Not but what she was a good lass, and worth going a long journey to have a crack with.

“Well, Peggy,” said Mr. Brandon, taking a seat near the fire, “and how do you like this cold country after so many years in a hot one?”

“The winters are not so bad, but the springs are worse to stand.  But if a body’s moving and stirring about they can aye keep heat in them.”

“If moving and stirring can keep you warm you will never be cold.  But, Peggy, you will want to hear the news.”

“Indeed do I,” said Peggy; “the diggings are going on as brisk as ever, I suppose?”

“Just as brisk, and sheep as dear, and wool steady; so, you see, I’ve taken a holiday.”

“But you’re going back again?”

“I must go back, for I have not made my fortune yet.  But, by-the-by, it is a great pity that you left Melbourne when you did.  You would have been a wealthy woman if you had stayed.  There’s Powell—­was he married before you went?”

“Ay, he was.  I heard word of it in Melbourne.”

“Well, he’s as flourishing as possible; he will soon be richer than me.  On his own account now.  Bought a flock and run, for an old song; cured the sheep; and is now on the highway to wealth.  Ah!  Peggy, why were you not Mrs Powell?”

“It was not to be,” said Peggy, calmly; “but has he any bairns?”

“Two, Peggy; and he is very proud of them.”

“Ay, ay; a man has need to be proud and pleased with his own.  And the wife?”