DICK GREENWOOD was slowly sauntering up one of the chief streets of the city of Melbourne. Turning down a side street, he entered into a store, and asked if any letters had been left there for him or his brother. "Why, yes, I believe there's a packet knocking about. Jones, reach 'em off that shelf," answered the foreman. A letter from his mother, and another in a strange handwriting to John, was passed across to Dick, who took them and left the store. "That plaguey boy may fetch his own letters. Blowed if I'll waste my time calling round; but who's been writing to him now, I wonder? Some woman's hand. That means mischief, for sure!" Dick turned the envelope over, and studied the calligraphy with an air of uncertainty. Suddenly he exclaimed, half aloud: "It's from that soft fool of a girl, I'll bet anything. She's found out which way her bread was buttered, and means to come the doubles over Jack; but not quite so easy done, my girl. The boy's got a brother who'll look after him, so here goes;" and Dick tore open the envelope, glanced at the signature, nodded his head in triumph, and deliberately read the closely-written pages. "The lying humbug! So that's the way she'd throw dust into Jack's eyes, and he'd be as innocent as a new-born babe, and write back begging her forgiveness, and telling her he'd be ready for her in a trice! Bah, how I hate such tomfoolery!" and Dick tore the letter, which had been written with so many tears and prayers, into a hundred fragments, and sent them flying down the street. Some days later found him back in a bush settlement, where he had, a few months before, persuaded John to join him. Despite the latter's attempt at bravado, he had left England with a very sore heart, and a resolve to show Ruth that he could keep steady, and make his way in the new land. He quite intended to save money towards preparing a home; and thought that, in a year or two, he would write to Ruth, and ask her to overlook the past, and come out to him, for he never doubted her love and fidelity. But, though he had soon found a situation where he might have risen and achieved his purpose, he had no sooner commenced to save than his brother Dick would appear, and lead him into scenes of revelry and dissipation, where his money would be more than wasted. After one of these times John said, with bitterness: "Pity I didn't bring my Ruth out! She'd have kept me straight instead of helping me down as you do." In a letter that Dick had subsequently written home, he had sneeringly said that Jack wanted a woman to look after him. What effect that remark had upon Ruth we have previously seen.