‘All very fine,’ remarked Mr. Frankston to his cigar, as he put his young friend’s letter into his pocket with a dissatisfied air, ‘but if he commences to spend money in accordance with his notions of what he calls improved management, he will soon run himself aground. That’s not the way young Parklands worked the place when he went into it first, I’ll be bound. It’s extraordinary how every one who comes to this country of ours will persist in thinking that he has imported the first consignment of brains ever landed upon the continent. Well, I foresee that he will have his own way. If the seasons are good and cattle rise, he may pull through.’ ‘And if not, papa?’ inquired the soft voice of Antonia, who had crept up to the old man’s chair and placed her arm caressingly on his shoulder. ‘And if not, my pet,’ said that experienced colonist, with a subdued growl, into which he attempted to infuse the unfailing tenderness which invariably characterised his speech to his fondly-loved daughter, ‘if not, why in three years our young and ardent friend will have to make a living out of his “plans for reform,” for he will have nothing else left, as sure as my name is Paul Frankston.’ ‘Oh, don’t say that, papa,’ said Mr. Neuchamp’s indulgent though sensible advocate; ‘surely he is far cleverer than most of the young men that come out and turn squatters with just a “little experience,” and see how well some of them have done.’ ‘It is not that he has a worse head, but I doubt most of all because of his better heart. That will destroy the balance. It’s a bad thing for money-making. A man can make money, save money, or keep money, with just as few brains as will prevent him from falling into the fire. But let him have only as much more heart than his neighbours as would overbalance a nautilus, and money falls away from him like quicksilver. It’s a fatal defect, Antonia, my darling; and I’m afraid our young friend has it incurably.’ ‘It’s a fault on the right side, at any rate!’ said the girl, raising her head proudly. ‘Those who think tenderly and faithfully concerning their fellow-creatures are not, perhaps, so clever with the “muck-rake” as self-seekers who bore and tunnel, like moles, all their lives, never turning their eyes towards the blue sky, the golden sun, or the glad waters. It cannot but be that those who have loftier aims should have some compensation even in _this_ world; and if they are not so clever in helping themselves, why, their friends must help them all the more. Don’t you think so, pappy dearest?’ ‘He―m!’ answered the capitalist warily. ‘That depends upon circumstances. Some people require a great deal of helping.’ ‘The greater triumph when they are finally helped into safety and success, and then they are sure to help others. Prosperity opens the hearts of really generous people more and more. By the way, how did Paul Frankston ever come to make any money? Tell me that, sir?’