The buzzing had ceased, and all was very still in the low, shabby room, as the bluebottle settled on the centre of a figure in the common wall-paper; and Dick went forward, on tiptoe, while, somehow drawn into a keen interest in the pursuit, they knew not why, Mrs Shingle and Jessie still looked on. Slowly and cautiously, as if determined to make up this time for his many failures, Richard Shingle advanced closer and closer, just as a ray of sunshine fell on the wall, making the fly, which was cleaning and brushing itself, stand out plainly before them all. It was as if the capture of that fly had something to do with their future in life, and the activity that Dick threw into the pursuit was shared by all present. Would he catch it? Would he fail? That was the mental question asked, as he made a scoop of his hand, drew just within the required distance, paused for a moment, and then-- There was a rapid dash of a hand across the sunlit patch, and Dick stood up, with outstretched arm and closed fist. "_Bizz_--_izz_--_izz_" went the captured fly, within the tightened hand, as Jack gave his knee a delighted slap. "At last--at last!" shouted Dick. "I've got it, mother, now. Do you hear, Jessie? I've got it." "Got what?" they cried. He paused for a moment or two, turned to them with a curious look upon his face, and then said quietly-- "The fly on the wall." "Jessie, my darling--he's mad," whispered Mrs Shingle, running to him. "Oh, Dick, Dick!" "No, mother," he cried, "I'm not mad; and I've made my fortune." As he spoke he held his hand to the window, unclosed it, and the fly darted into the sunshine--free. "At last!" said Dick softly. "`Hit a bright,'" Max said, "and--I've let it go." VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER SEVEN. WHO WAS THAT? "Got your Australian money yet, Dick?" said Hopper the next day, when he dropped in as usual. "No," said Dick; "but I've got this," and he flourished the ten-pound note before his old friend. "Hey? Got that," said Hopper, putting on a pair of tortoiseshell-rimmed spectacles, and taking the note in his fingers. "Why, it's--it's a ten-pound note. It's a bad one." "No," said Dick triumphantly; "it's a good one. I asked our grocer." "Hey? A good one! Come by it honestly, Dick?" "Of course he did," cried Mrs Shingle indignantly. "Ah! I don't know--I don't know," said the old fellow. "There's a deal of trickery in the world. If it's a good one, then, Dick, and you did come by it honestly, you'll lend me a few shillings, Dick, eh? Say ten." "Hopper, old man," said Dick, "you shall have a pound if you like. And, look here, I've hit a bright idea at last." "No--have you?" said Hopper, whose hearing seemed wonderfully good. "Yes, old chap; and a fortune will come of it. And, look here: we've been best friends when it was hard times,--there's an easy chair in the corner for you when it's soft times. None of your turning proud, you know."