CHAPTER IV.

"The wondering stranger round him gazed,

All spoke neglect and disrepair."

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

William sought the capricious storekeeper in the proper sphere of his

labour, viz. the store-room, and, as he had anticipated, found him

deeply engaged in some imaginarily abstruse piece of figurative

collocation, from the study of which he relieved his brain and raised

his eyes at the sound of intrusive steps. William advanced with

outstretched hand, which was humbly and respectfully taken by Mr.

Billing; who, as he removed his spectacles from his nose, and shifted,

we will not say rose from his desk, answered to his visitor's sanitary

enquiry in his blandest manner: "I thank you, Mr. Ferguson; it affords

me great satisfaction to say I am in the enjoyment of excellent health,

and trust, my dear sir, a similar blessing is dispensed to yourself."

"Well, thank you, Mr. Billing," replied William, "I am pretty well. But

don't let me disturb you if you are busy, I have just called in to see

and have a chat with you; but if you are engaged I will not interrupt

you; for I thoroughly agree to the principle that business must be

attended to."

"I assure you, sir," said Mr. Billing, "I appreciate your kindness in

thinking me worthy of your consideration. I feel favoured, sir, beyond

measure; and if you will still further honour me by gracing our humble

dwelling, I can say, sir, with confidence Mrs. Billing will be equally

as delighted as myself."

"But I hope, Mr. Billing, I am not taking you away from your business,"

said William.

"By no means, my dear sir," exclaimed that urbane individual, "however

engrossed I might be in my mental or corporeal occupations, the respite,

sir, from those labours, when it is occasioned by the honour of a visit

from a young gentleman of your talent and abilities, is of too valuable

a nature, sir, not to be gratefully seized by your humble servant. Pray

accept my best thanks, sir, for your attention, and permit me to invite

you, sir, to our unpretending abode; for lowly it is, and not of those

pretensions I could desire, sir, nor of such as it has been my lot at a

former period of my life to possess, yet, sir, to it I can offer an

Englishman's adjunct, a hearty welcome."

"I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Billing," replied William, "and will

be happy to accept of your hospitality."

"This way then, Mr. Ferguson," said Mr. Billing. "Allow me to close the

door of the store. I always lock it in my absence to prevent, sir, any

unpleasant affairs, such as have occurred here, you know. If you will

be good enough to step this way, sir? I must apologize beforehand, for

the litter which I expect you will find, sir, in our domicile by

explaining that Mrs. Billing does not anticipate the pleasure of

visitors."

Considering the sight that greeted the eyes of William as he entered the

cottage, such an apology was certainly necessary, or rather unnecessary,

to prepare him for what he was to witness. We said necessary, to excuse

the lady of the house for the chaotic arrangements of her household,

seeing that one couldn't enter the dwelling without being painfully

aware that slovenliness and disorder reigned supreme. Therefore we

corrected ourselves in the expression, and stated the absence of such

necessity; as no one could be so blind as to imagine that the litter

which Mr. Billing alluded to was merely the result of an occasion; for

it was too palpably evident that the spirit of disorganization was the

presiding genius of the Billing mansion, and, moreover, the visitor

would be strengthened in the conviction the very moment he cast his

eyes upon the wife of Mr. Billing's bosom. We will repeat then that Mr.

Billing made numerous apologies for the disorder to which he was about

to usher William Ferguson; and we may safely conjecture that William was

not a little surprised when all the internal arrangements of the home

burst upon his vision.

"Let me show you to my domicile, Mr. Ferguson," said the little man in

rather a pompous way; "as usual, sir, the house is turned topsey-turvey,

Mrs. Billing is such a woman for cleanliness. You have no doubt, Mr.

Ferguson (though you have not yet become entangled in the meshes of

matrimony), heard of the nuisance of a musical wife; let me equally warn

you, sir, against choosing the partner of your connubial bliss, from

those of too cleanly a predilection. My spouse, sir, for instance, has

periodical fits for cleansing (and I regret to say, sir, they are of too

frequent occurrence for my especial comfort); then nothing but dust,

soap and water, and disquietude pervades the house for a full twelve or

twenty-four hours. You are aware, sir, 'at home' (I mean of course in

Old England) we paterfamiliases are taught, sir, to look upon

washing-days as the very superlative of domestic misery; but my wife

always had a propensity for having something like a washing-day very

nearly six times a week, sir; and she has brought her customs and

prejudices with her to this barbarous country. But come in, my dear sir,

and take a seat, while I inform Mrs. Billing of your presence; and if I

may be so bold, sir, as to add, I will entreat you to make yourself

quite at home."

This introductory prologue of Mr. Billing's was delivered as he stood

with the door slightly ajar, and holding it by the handle while he

addressed William, no doubt to fully prepare him to a proper

appreciation of the merits of the lady to whom he was about to be

introduced. When we say introduced we do not mean that formal ceremony

in which strangers are brought to a mutual acquaintance (for William had

frequently before met Mrs. Billing), but the mere act of being ushered

to her presence in a house into which he, as yet, had never entered. Mr.

Billing had stood, door in hand, while he uttered about half of his last

sentence, when William saw, or fancied he saw, a female hand suddenly

draw back the cover of a muslin blind that screened the lower part of a

window situated in close proximity to the door at which he stood.

Instantly thereafter a female head was substituted in its place, but as

instantly withdrawn; while the noise of some falling object was

distinctly heard, and was as speedily followed by that of a hastily

closed door; all of them unmistakeable signs of a surprisal and retreat.

At this moment Mr. Billing pushed open the door and entered the

evacuated room, in which he concluded his lugubrious notice of his

lesser half's peculiarities, and desired his visitor to take a seat;

which his visitor, picking up a chair that lay prostrate on the floor,

accordingly did; and Mr. Billing went in search of his lady. Judging

from the seeming confidence with which he walked into an apartment

entering from the one which William sat in, forming the only other one

in the front of the cottage, the operation was one of more certitude

than the verb he made use off would imply; and also judging from the

subdued whispers that William could overhear through the thin wooden

partition that constituted the wall of the room, the search was also

attended with wonderful success. But during Mr. Billing's absence to

look for his spouse, let us join our young friend in his general

inspection of the furnishing and upholstery department of the

establishment.

In the first place we must say, distinctly and candidly, that the room

was furnished badly. Not that there was any paucity in the collection;

but the articles, though numerous, taken in the abstract, with the

greatest regard to symmetry, contrast, and beauty, and the best possible

display of talent in their collocation, any one with the slightest

pretensions to comfort, we are certain would eliminate the entire mass;

and any appraiser, if such an individual existed, within the boundaries

of New South Wales, if called in to take an inventory, would elevate

both his nose and his shoulders.

But we will, with the reader's kind permission, give a short

description, for the benefit of young couples about to furnish; and out

of respect for the feelings and the patience of those of our readers,

who have no desire or necessity for such detail, we will epitomize the

catalogue as much as possible.

First then we must state that there was no semblance of order in the

arrangements. Far from it; in fact, quite the reverse. All things seemed

to have been placed with a predetermination on the part of some one to

create as much confusion as possible, and to put each individual

article into as awkward a position as imaginable. It is true William had

rescued a chair from a lowly position, and had placed it on an

unoccupied spot on the floor, and used it for the purpose for which in

its construction it was intended. But it was well our young friend was

not of an erratic disposition, for if he had been bent upon voyages of

discovery, other than could be effected by his eyes, he would have found

himself in as great a labyrinth as ever impeded the progress of the

polar explorers. The fact was William was perfectly hemmed in; so that,

with the exception of a small spot that was partially occupied by his

chair, there was no room to stir, or at least very little; and he did

not consider it wise, or politic, to risk his knees and shins in an

attempt to penetrate into the thickly timbered recesses of the

apartment. As he sat in the midst of this mass, which seemed to have

been collected as the entire furniture of a dwelling, deposited in a

room for the convenience of the van that officiates at flittings, he

almost looked like an anxious emigrant keeping guard over his effects

when landed in a strange country, or as "Caius Marius mourning over the

ruins of Carthage."

But we have wandered from our task, our self-imposed descriptive task,

which we confess ourselves at a loss to perform with satisfaction; for

having no cabinet-making knowledge, and never having before been called

upon to take an inventory of such chattels, we feel ourselves, to make

use of a vulgar idiom, "all abroad." We fear we have assumed the title

and privileges of the author without considering whether or not we are

possessed of the attributes pertaining to one; and, in our insensate

conceit, we are afraid we have forgotten the absence of that recondite

perspicuity and facile elucidation which are imperatively essential to

the character we have arrogated. But we fancy we hear some of our

impatient readers exclaim, "We wish you would tell us, without 'beating

about the bush,' what the room contains; it is all nonsense your making

excuses now, you should have thought of your incapacity before you

commenced your history, and must go on with it; all we can do is to pity

and smile at your ignorance;" and we exclaim, "A thousand thanks, kind

readers! That is the very lenience we wished to evoke; we now can

proceed with confidence, if not in our powers of depiction, at least in

your charity and forbearance."

Well then, in the centre of the room stood a table, which we venture to

say had not been displaced in the general disorganization,

notwithstanding that its satellites had. There was nothing extraordinary

about this table, and yet there was a something which inspired awe, or

at least curiosity, and that would lead to the enquiry, Whence came it?

and this was precisely William's thought. Ah! that was a rare old table,

and struck William with a desire to know its history; but unfortunately

it had not the power to satisfy his enquiring mind; and he, having no

one at the time with him from whom he could glean the information, was

not likely to be the wiser. With the reader, however, we will not be so

harsh or uncommunicative, but will make use of our knowledge, and impart

the secret of its life; at least from the time whence it boasted of Mr.

Billing as its owner. First, however, we will give a sketch of its

general appearance.

When we called it a table, we should have in greater justice said two

tables, for, though one, it was also two. This seeming paradox may be

explained by stating that, as it stood, it was one, but in its integral

parts it could be spoken of in the plural number; in fact, to descend to

the common vernacular mode of expression, we will say they were two side

leaf-tables that had graced the parlour windows of the little box at

Brixton. The leaves were, and had been for many years (in fact, rarely

otherwise), quiescent, and were each made to hide its diminished head in

a close contiguity to the object's crural appendages. The two tables,

thus reduced to their natural bounds, were arranged with an

affectionate concomitance so as to act the part of a table of family

pretensions. It was of mahogany; and we will assume the postulation,

that it was of solid mahogany, to which assumption we are led from its

antique appearance, presuming that in the good old days of our

ancestors, that refined species of humbug and deception, yclept

veneering, was not in vogue, as our forefathers, so we are told, could

not tolerate anything but what was substantial. But how sadly have we

degenerated in these latter days! We now no longer perpetuate their

creed, or retain any of their material predilections, except those for

beef, beer, "bacca," and bills.

But to return to the table. We said it was mahogany, but we must correct

ourselves; we mean it was so originally, when it stood in the parlour at

Brixton, but now no longer could it be said to be of that wood. If it

but spoke, what "tales it could unfold" of voyages, journeys, mishaps,

and accidents, that would put the whole fraternity of aristocratic loos

far into the shade. Mr. Billing was wont to say he loved that old table

as much as hundreds of individuals are in the habit of affirming a

similar affection for a certain "old arm chair." He would also inform

his friends, when in a communicative mood, that that table had belonged

to his friend Lord Tom Noddy, whom he knew very well; but, unfortunately

for our poor little friend's aristocratic reputation, on one occasion

when he was a little "farther gone" than was usually his habit to go,

the truth of _in vino veritas_ was exemplified. On that occasion he

innocently informed his friends, that, of course, the Lord Tom Noddy did

not know him; that he, Mr. B., had bought the table at a sale of that

nobleman's effects, when the inconvenient demands of low tradespeople

rendered a sojourn in London exceedingly annoying to his lordship, and

induced him to fancy his health demanded attention and his person

relaxation and continental air. But still Mr. Billing could boast of

what very few, if any, men in Australia could, that is, that he was

possessed of a table that had belonged to a real, live lord; and many

were those who were made aware of the fact.

We fear we are not confining ourselves to a succinct account of minutiae,

but are again running too much into detail of no moment; and we will,

therefore, continue more briefly the history and description of this

wonderful piece of furniture. It had been considered too great a

treasure to be sacrificed in the break-up of the Brixton "box;"

consequently it was carried off to gladden the eyes and astonish the

nerves of the natives of Australia. As we have already said, many were

the misfortunes it had gone through in its various peregrinations, and

vast the trouble it had been to its present owner, who, notwithstanding,

through all his vicissitudes, stuck to it as long as it stuck to him.

Lord Tom Noddy's table was in much the same predicament as Jack's knife,

which had had five new blades and three new handles; for his lordship's

table had had innumerable splicings, nailings, screwings, patchings, and

new leggings, composed of a variety of fibrous material, and of numerous

colours and artistic designs. Yet there it stood, with its legs of an

unequal longitude, some with castors and some without (the latter being

supplied with a stone or a piece of wood, to preserve as nearly as

possible the equilibrium); and, with more than one bandage to conceal a

fractured limb, this relic of the past, this trophy of Mr. Billing's

palmy days, and proof of his intercourse with aristocracy, preserved a

dignified composure, like a veteran surveying the scene of a triumph. We

said that the table stood in the centre of the room, and bore no

evidences of having been moved in the general disorder; of this we were

morally certain, for, judging by its paralytic appearance, it threatened

a speedy dissolution if touched.

The other members of this conglomerate fraternity were some dozen

chairs, more or less, also in various stages of dilapidation, and of

them we can say much in a few words. They were American, machine-made,

cane-bottomed, painted, and patent varnished ladies' and gent's body

supporters, and bore the same relation to civilized furniture as Dutch

clocks used to do to the old-cased patriarchs, that in our halls marked

the phases of fleeting time.

They were "machine-made," we say, that is, the legs, bars, etc., were

cut and turned by machinery; they were possessed of cane bottoms,

whether also arranged by machinery or not, we can't say, though they

were painted and varnished by its aid. But why such ordinary articles of

domestic use should be patent we are at a loss to comprehend, unless it

were for the design, or in the operation of painting the decorating

portion, which consisted of an application of gilt varnish on the front

of each leg and prominent part of the seat, and the representation on

the back, in high colours and gilt, of some flowers and fruit, which it

would be difficult to match with originals, from all the varieties that

have been produced, from the Eden apple downwards.

The next article was a sort of chiffonnier, a piece of furniture that

made a great display; with crystal and china arranged with precision on

the top, and a protecting covering of chintz, no doubt the uninitiated

would imagine, to keep the polish from sustaining any injury. But must

we discover the truth? Oh! deceitfulness of man, and, we may add, of

woman too. This elegant and costly piece of furniture was nothing but a

large deal box placed up on end, with rough shelves fixed into it to add

to its utility, and with a gaudy cover put over it to hide its

nakedness. There was another article of a similar construction, a

luxuriant-looking ottoman, and a sofa which had originally, no doubt,

been of polished cedar (of which wood, we may remark, all the best

colonial furniture is made, and found to equal, if not excel, Honduras

mahogany), and with horse-hair cushions, etc. But now it presented a

doleful appearance of weather-beaten features and limbs, and where a

horse-hair covering had existed, now only canvas was visible. A mirror

of the dull and heavy school rested on the mantel-piece, along with

sundry portraits, no doubt of a family importance, executed in an art of

stern profile blackness, which art, we believe, is extinct, and happily

so. The floor had no covering, neither had the walls, which showed the

wood in its crude state, or rather in the serrated condition in which it

had left the sawyer's pit. A few children's stockings and shoes

scattered about; a woman's dress, mantle, and bonnet lying on the table,

with some calico in the process of conversion to an article of apparel;

a piano of ancient make which, we must say though, belonged to Mrs.

Rainsfield, and was placed there for the use of the children while under

the tuition of Mrs. Billing, completed the furniture; and, with other

scraps, such as towels, dusters, and odds and ends, all heaped

together, as we have said before, in interminable confusion, the reader

has an idea of what William was surveying.

We have already confessed our lack of the author's talent of succinct

expression; and what we might have been able, had we been possessed of

such a gift, to have detailed in a few pithy words, and what was noticed

by William in a few minutes, it has taken us so long to describe. We

must therefore beg to assure the reader that Mr. Billing was not so rude

as to leave his guest waiting alone so long as we have kept him, but

shortly re-entered the sitting-room and informed William that Mrs.

Billing was that moment engaged with the children, but if he would

excuse her for a few minutes she would be obliged to him.

Now it happened that William had heard certain sounds that indicated

arrangements of no possible connexion with children's attiring and

ornature; such as the washing of an adult's hands, the operation of

adjusting that corporeal appertinence, which is made to enclose the

forms and symmetrize the figures of Eve's fair daughters of the present

age, the rustling of silk, and other prognostics of a personal

embellishment. But still conveniently deaf as a visitor should be to

such sounds he begged that Mrs. Billing would not allow herself to be

drawn from her attention to the children on his account, for he would be

sorry to inconvenience her by his call.

Mr. Billing thanked him for his politeness and consideration, and

entreated him not to mention anything about inconvenience; and at that

very moment Mrs. Billing sailed into the room, or at least as much of it

as she could get into; and, while shaking hands with William, said: "I

am delighted beyond measure, Mr. Ferguson, at your kindness in calling

upon us. It is so affable of you, and I can only express my regrets that

you should have happened to have chosen a day when you see we are all

topsy-turvey. You must know, Mr. Ferguson, I always like to keep my

house clean and in order, although Mr. Billing will persist in grumbling

at what he calls unnecessary cleanliness; but still I am glad you have

honoured us with a visit." "Go away, Johnny, and Bobby! Mary, don't be

rude!"

These latter expressions were addressed to various olive branches of the

Billing tree, who showed their heads at the door whence had emerged the

parent stem, and to which, we presume, the juveniles had come to satisfy

their curiosity as to the nature of the intrusion on their domestic

privacy. But they did not seem disposed to obey the injunctions of their

maternal parent; who therefore rose and put them inside the room and

shut the door, while they continued to amuse themselves by keeping up a

perpetual kicking.

Possibly the reader may desire to know something about Mrs. Billing, her

genealogy, etc. If so, we will endeavour to prevent disappointment by

giving a brief sketch of her. She was a lady, "a perfect lady," as her

husband used to say, and we should imagine, nearly twenty years the

junior of her lord. She was not absolutely plain; she might once have

been good-looking. In fact, Mr. Billing used to assure his friends, when

first he married her she was a beauty, one, he affirmed, of the Grecian

mould. We will not flatter her, however, by saying she was handsome;

though we will state that her looks were capable of great improvement by

the study of a little judicious display and effective costuming. But

these virtues or follies, as our readers may consider them, obtained

very little regard from Mrs. Billing; notwithstanding that on sundry

occasions, such as the present, she made an effort to appear as in

former years.

She had taken some little pains, we say little pains because of the

insignificance of the result, to present a genteel appearance to our

friend William, and had made a hasty toilet. If it had effected any

improvement in her appearance it argued badly for her presentableness

before the operations of ablution and ornature had taken place. Her

hair, in keeping with her eyes, was black, and parted not scrupulously

in the centre; a stray lock on the forehead segregated from its rightful

position was brought immediately across the line of demarcation and

incorporated in the opposition. However, its lamination was lost in the

plastering the whole had undergone in the toilet operations; and, as

Mrs. Billing was not a vain woman, such a mishap was not deemed worthy

of notice, or at least the trouble of rectification. Her features, if

not good, were certainly far from bad. There was a vivacity and

expression in them, but there was also an unctuousness that was a

necessary concomitant on her perpetual bustle, which incessantly

displayed itself in her pale face. She wore a black silk dress, that

made a rustling like dry leaves in winter, and was modelled in a fashion

so as to confine both the wrists and the throat of the wearer; at which

points it terminated without the muslin adjuncts we usually look for.

As for the dress itself nothing need be said, except that it might have,

and had been a good one, but was then rather seedy. It gave us, however,

the idea that it was worn in much the same manner, and for much the same

purpose, as the closely buttoned up frock-coat of the "shabby genteel

gentleman," who is unable to make any display of spotless linen. But we

will make no ambiguous allusion to a lady's under garments, though we

cannot shut our eyes to noticeable facts. Neither could William, for he

perceived that her boots, though they had once been of a fashionable

make, were not what they had been, for their glory had long since

departed. He also noticed that her hands and facial contour were of a

different shade to her neck and throat. It might have been an optical

illusion, the effect of a deceptive light, the contrast of complexion,

or the exposure to sun; but he thought that where the tints blended the

contrast was too perceptible to be natural, and therefore concluded that

the phenomenon arose from the dirt not being thoroughly removed, or the

omission of an ablutionary application to the dark tinted part.

William also noticed,--but we must again crave the indulgence of our

fair readers, whose pardon we implore for adverting to such a

subject,--when Mrs. Billing turned herself to eject and inject the

juvenile representatives of the Billing family; he saw her back! yes,

reader! her back! Now no lady should turn her back on a gentleman any

more than a gentleman should perform so derogatory an act upon a lady,

either literally or figuratively. More especially if that lady be not a

good figure, or if her dress does not fit immaculately. We do not

insinuate that Mrs. Billing had not a good figure, she was _once_

graceful; but it was to be presumed, that considering the ample proofs

she had given of a proclivity to gestation, the symmetry of that figure

had to some extent been impaired. Be that as it may, the dress of Mrs.

Billing did not meet behind by some three or four hooks; and the

consequence was that a sight was revealed to the bashful gaze of our

young friend which caused him to blush; while the remembrance of the

cleanly characteristics, enunciated by her lord as pertaining to her,

made him wonder. For there! immediately underneath the habilimentary

cuticle, William saw garments of so suspicious a colour as to make it

questionable whether they had attained their peculiar hues by the

process of dyeing, or by their contact with this world's filth.

But there is one thing that we must explain before we leave Mrs.

Billing. We have already told the reader that cleanliness was Mrs.

Billing's peculiar and predominant idiosyncrasy, and we must reconcile

this statement to our portraiture of unbecoming slovenliness. It is

easily said in a few words. Mrs. Billing was one of those women who are

always in a fuss about their domestic affairs; who are for ever

fidgeting about the dirt in the house; and always attempting to remove,

or remedy it, though in the attempt they only succeed in adding to the

filth. Making "confusion worse confounded;" leaving things worse than

they were before; adding to the discomfort of their husbands, their

children, and themselves; whom they keep in a perpetual state of

slovenliness and untidiness. Such was Mrs. Billing's failing; and if her

husband was blessed with perspicuity sufficient to notice it, for his

own peace of mind, he abstained from any dictation that might have

embroiled him in family dissensions; and he was right: for on the whole

she was undeniably a good wife to him notwithstanding her little

peculiarities.

Mrs. Billing had managed to squeeze herself into a seat, as her husband

had previously done, without necessitating any extraordinarily

unpleasant contiguity to her visitor; though any extension of

prerogative on the part of the upper or nether limbs of either of the

party would have been detrimental to the visages, or shins, of the

others. So they were all perforce compelled to adhere to a strict

propriety of deportment.

The lady was particularly charmed, or at least she continued to say so,

at what she designated the condescension of Mr. Ferguson in visiting her

humble abode.

"I am truly delighted to see you," she said again, for at least the

twentieth time; "and only regret I can offer you no inducement to

prolong your visit. I suppose there would be no use in my asking you to

stay and take pot-luck with us in the friendly way, Mr. Ferguson? Not

that it would be any change of fare to you, for we are necessarily

humble people now; and, if we even desired it, we could not have

anything out of the common. It is not here like 'at home,' where you

can, even with the most moderate means, procure anything nice. In this

horrid country neither love nor money can buy tasty things. One has to

be contented with what we can get, and we live so incessantly upon

mutton that I wonder we're not all ashamed to look a sheep in the face.

But, as I was saying, can we persuade you to stop and take pot-luck with

us, Mr. Ferguson?"

"I really thank you, Mrs. Billing," said William; "but my friends will

expect me to make my appearance at the house shortly. I have brought my

sister over to see Miss Eleanor, and have just dropped in to see you as

I passed."

"Yes! it is very kind of you," said Mrs. Billing; "and of course Mrs.

Rainsfield will be expecting you. However, if at any time you shall be

disposed to honour us with a visit, let us have the pleasure of your

company sufficiently long to enable us fully to enjoy it. Devote some

evening to us, and we will endeavour to amuse you. We would be most

happy to see your sister too, if she would condescend to honour our roof

by her presence; she is a gentle, amiable young lady. I need not ask if

she is well as that I am sure of?"

"Thank you," said William, "she is quite well, and I have no doubt will

be happy to join me in paying you a visit; especially when I tell her of

your kind enquiries."

"Will you try a little spirits, Mr. Ferguson?" asked the master of the

mansion. "I am sorry I have no wine to offer you, and neither any choice

of spirits; but I shall be delighted if you will join me in a glass of

rum."

"I am obliged to you; not any," replied William.

The conversation continued for some short time longer, chiefly though on

the part of the Billing couple; who took upon themselves the initiatory

to enlighten their visitor upon all their family affairs and departed

greatness. William soon began to feel a distaste for this kind of

conversation and society, and had made one or two attempts to break the

spell. But as the pair kept up an alternate and incessant dialogue he

could not find an opportunity of taking his leave; and neither did he

effect his retreat until he had risen from his seat, stood hat in hand

for nearly ten minutes, and repeated more than once that he feared his

sister would be wondering what had become of him.

He at last succeeded in escaping, and cordially shaking hands with the

quondum commercial man and his lady, he took his departure and walked

back to the house. Mr. Billing returned to, and was speedily lost in the

abstruse calculation from which his attention had been diverted by

William's visit; while Mrs. Billing retired to the precincts of her

sanctum, to divest herself of her outer covering for one of more humble

pretensions, in which she had been habited at the time of her

surprisal.

Fern Vale; or, the Queensland Squatter. Volume 3 · 第 4 / 14 章