"Well, no; I am not Miss Portlock's husband, Mr Mallow," said Luke, smiling, and taking the extended hand, his tone saying plainly enough that he hoped soon to be. "Ah, well, we all get married some time or other," said the visitor, in a careless, unpleasant way. "Have you got married then, my lad?" said the Churchwarden, reaching a cigar-box from the fireplace cupboard. "No, not yet," he replied, "not yet. Cyril and I are particular, eh, Cil, old man? I've come over to fetch myself a wife perhaps. Cigar? Yes; thanks. Take one, Cil? Hah! how cosy this old room seems! I've spent some pleasant hours here." "Ay, you've smoked many a pipe with me, Mr Frank. That was when you were in your farming days." "Farming days?" "Ay," chuckled the Churchwarden, "sowing thy wild oats, my lad." "Ha, ha, ha! Why, Portlock, you're as fond of a joke as ever. Ladies, I hope you won't mind so much smoking," he said, puffing away vigorously all the same, while Luke Ross gazed uneasily from one brother to the other, till he caught Cyril looking at him in a haughty, offended manner, when in spite of himself his eyes fell. "Old folks surprised to see you, eh, sir?" said the Churchwarden, to break the blank in the conversation. "Yes, preciously," was the short reply. "Humph!" Frank Mallow, who was staring at Rue, while his brother was trying to catch her sister's eye, turned at this loud grunt and smiled. "Oh, you're there!" he exclaimed. "And how is Doctor Vinnicombe?" "Doctor Vinnicombe is in very good health, and in the best of spirits," said the doctor, sarcastically, "for one of his old patients has come back, evidently to pay a heavy bill that his father refused to acknowledge." "Glad to hear it," said Frank Mallow. "And how have you got on, Mr Frank?" said the Churchwarden. "I hope you've made a better hit of it than Mr Cyril there, and after all the teaching I gave him about sheep." "Better hit? Well, I hope so. Nice fellow he was to come out to the other side of the world, and never call upon his brother." "You took precious good care not to let us know your address," retorted Cyril. "And what may you have been doing, Mr Frank?" said the Churchwarden, who was beginning to have an uneasy idea that the visitors were not adding to the harmony of the evening, and also recalling the ugly little affairs that had to do with Frank's departure. "Doing?" "Yes; sir; did you try tillage?" "Not I, farmer," exclaimed Frank Mallow, staring hard at Rue, who kept her eyes fixed upon the carpet, or talked in a low voice to Sage, while bluff John Berry listened eagerly for what seemed likely to be an interesting narrative. "Let's see, Mr Frank, you went to New Zealand?" "Yes, but I did not stay there; I ran on to Australia, and tried the diggings." "And did you get any gold, sir?" said John Berry, eagerly.