Immediately after breakfast Mac splashed through the creek at a hand-gallop and, dashing up to the house, flung himself from his horse, the same impetuous, warmhearted “Brither Scot.”

“Patience rewarded at last,” he called in welcome; and when invited to “come ben the hoose to the diningroom,” was, as usual, full of congratulations.  “My!  We are some!” he said, examining every detail.  But as he also said that “the Dandy could get the trunks right off if we liked to send him across with the dray,” we naturally “liked,” and Johnny and the Dandy harnessing up, went with him, and before long the verandah and rooms were piled with trunks.

Fortunately Dan was “bush” again among the cattle, or his heart would have broken at this new array of links for the chain.

Once the trunks were all in, Mac, the Dandy, and Johnny retired to the Quarters after a few more congratulations, Johnny continuing his flourishes all the way across.  Cheon however, with his charming disregard for conventionality being interested, settled himself on one of the trunks to watch the opening up of the others.

To have ordered him away would have clouded his beaming happiness; so he remained, and told us exactly what he thought of our possessions, adding much to the pleasure of the opening of the trunks.  If any woman would experience real pleasure, let her pack all her belongings into trunks—­all but a couple of changes of everything—­and go away out-bush, leaving them to follow “after the Wet” per bullock waggon, and when the reunion takes place the pleasure will be forthcoming.  If she can find a Cheon to be present at the reunion, so much the better.

Some of our belongings Cheon thoroughly approved of; others were passed over as unworthy of notice; and others were held up to chuckling ridicule.  A silver teapot was pounced upon with a cry of delight (tinware being considered far beneath the dignity of a missus, and seeing Sam had broken the china pot soon after its arrival, tinware had graced our board for some time), pictures were looked at askance, particularly an engraving of Psyche at the Pool; while the case for a set of carvers received boundless admiration, although the carvers in no way interested him.

The photographs of friends and relatives were looked carefully over, the womenfolk being judged by what they might bring in a Chinese matrimonial market.

“My word!  That one good-looking.  Him close up sixty pound longa China,” was rather disconcerting praise of a very particular lady friend.

A brass lamp was looked upon as a monument of solid wealth, “Him gold,” he decided, insisting it was in the face of all denials.  “Him gold.  Me savey gold all right.  Me live longa California long time,” he said, bringing forward a most convincing argument; and, dismissing the subject with one of his Podsnapian waves, he decided that a silver-coloured composition flower-bowl in the form of a swan was solid silver; “Him sing out all a same silver,” he said, making it ring with a flick of his finger and thumb, when I differed from him, and knowing Cheon by now, we left it at that for the time being.