‘Well, I’ll no say but what it micht mean a deal mair,’ replied McIntosh, with characteristic Scotch caution, as he followed Madame into the house; ’it’s no a verra bad sign, onyhow; I winna say but what we micht be near the Devil’s Lead.’

‘And if we are?’ said Madame, turning with a smile.

‘Weel, mem, ye’ll have mair siller nor ye’ll ken what to dae wi’, an’ ‘tis to be hoped ye’ll no be making a fool of yersel.’

Madame laughed—­she was used to McIntosh’s plain speaking, and it in no wise offended her.  In fact, she preferred it very much more than being flattered, as people’s blame is always genuine, their praise rarely so.  At all events she was not displeased, and looked after him with a smile in her dark eyes as he disappeared into the back kitchen to make himself decent for tea.  Madame herself sat down in an arm-chair in the bow window, and watched Selina preparing the meal.

Selina Jane Sprotts, who now acted as servant to Mrs Villiers, was rather an oddity in her way.  She had been Madame’s nurse, and had followed her up to Ballarat, with the determination of never leaving her.  Selina was a spinster, as her hand had never been sought in marriage, and her personal appearance was certainly not very fascinating.  Tall and gaunt, she was like a problem from Euclid, all angles, and the small quantity of grey hair she possessed was screwed into a hard lump at the back of her head.  Her face was reddish in colour, and her mouth prim and pursed up, as if she was afraid of saying too much, which she need not have been, as she rarely spoke, and was as economical of her words as she was of everything else.  She was much given to quoting proverbs, and hurled these prepared little pieces of wisdom on every side like pellets out of a pop-gun.  Conversation which consists mainly of proverbs is rarely exhilarating; consequently Miss Sprotts was not troubled to talk much, either by Madame or McIntosh.

Miss Sprotts moved noiselessly about the small room, in a wonderfully dextrous manner considering her height, and, after laying the table, placed the teapot on the hob to ‘draw’, thereby disturbing a cat and a dog who were lying in front of the fire—­for there was a fire in the room in spite of the heat of the day, Selina choosing to consider that the house was damp.  She told Madame she knew it was damp because her bones ached, and as she was mostly bones she certainly had a good opportunity of judging.

Annoyed at being disturbed by Miss Sprotts, the dog resigned his comfortable place with a plaintive growl, but the cat, of a more irritable temperament, set up and made a sudden scratch at her hand, drawing blood therefrom.

‘Animals,’ observed Selina, grimly, ‘should keep their place;’ and she promptly gave the cat a slap on the side of the head, which sent him over to Madame’s feet, with an angry spit.  Madame picked him up and soothed his ruffled feelings so successfully, that he curled himself up on her lap and went to sleep.