'"Hulloa, Tom! home again? Proud to see you, my boy. Safe back to the old place, hey?" '"That is so," answered Tom, putting on a little Yankee touch, "do you remember what you said to me as I was leaving?" '"No, my boy, what was it?" Friend didn't like to own up, you see. '"Well, you said I'd come to be hanged, and, by Jove! _I nearly was_ in 'Frisco. _The rope was round my neck_, sure as you're there. Took me for a gambler who'd shot a man the night before. He turned up in time to be turned off, or I should have been--well, I _shouldn't_ have been here to-day." 'Friend turned quite pale, grasped his hand, and sloped. Affecting, wasn't it?' 'Good story, very,' quoth the host. 'Like Tom Rattleton. Reckless young beggar he always was--but turned out well afterwards. _Experientia docet._ Near thing, though. Now, touching this poor girl's cousin. Nothing earthly will prevent her going to look for him.' 'H--m! Does she know any one in Ballarat?' 'Mr. Charles Stirling, a banker; Hastings and Polwarth, Trevanion's mates.' 'Charlie Stirling! I've heard of him. Awfully good sort, people say. Well, he'll do all he can. If she goes up he's the man to break it to her. Dalton's Sub-Commissioner there. I'll leave a line for him. Between them both they'll see no harm come to her. Well, Number Two rivals his predecessor. It's a fair thing, I suppose. Good-night.' A couple of days were spent pleasantly enough in Melbourne. A few of the South Yarra notables dropped in, not quite accidentally, to Mrs. Vernon's afternoon tea, whose manner and appearance rather altered Estelle's preconceived notion of colonial society. They expressed the wildest astonishment at hearing that she was about to explore Ballarat, much as in London might a South Kensington coterie at hearing that a cherished classmate thought it necessary thus to satisfy her doubts about the Patagonians or the Modoc Indians, always ending their politest commiseration with an invitation. Finally, all entreaties proving unavailing, Estelle was driven in before sunrise, and at 6 A.M. found herself on the box-seat of the Ballarat coach, specially commended to the care of Mr. Levi, the driver, who was waiting for the clock of the Melbourne post-office to strike, preparatory to the customary sensational start of Cobb and Co.'s team of well-groomed, high-conditioned grays. CHAPTER XVIII