I thought of Sister Agatha, and pictured myself suggesting to her the introduction of shorthand into our curriculum in the Orphanage school. And at the same moment I recalled the occasions, only yesterday, upon which I had had to 'hold out' my hand to this bitterly enthusiastic wielder of the cane. My palms had purple weals on them at that moment, tough though they were from outdoor work. I clenched my hands involuntarily, and was thankful the artist could not see their palms. That would have been a horrid humiliation; the very thought of it made me flush. No, this shorthand would hardly be introduced at St. Peter's; but I would learn it, I thought, all the same; and in due course I did, to find (again in due course) that even the acquisition of this mystery hardly represented quite the infallible key to fame and fortune that Mr. Rawlence thought it in the 'seventies. But my attitude toward this sufficiently casual suggestion was typical of the immensely stirring and impressive influence which all the artist's talk of that day had upon me. It was undoubtedly most kindly of him to show all the interest he did in one from whom he could not by any stretch of the imagination be said to have anything to gain. We were quite old friends, he said, in his amiable way, by the time evening approached, and we began to pack up his paraphernalia. My crowning triumph came when, in leaving, he gave me his card, and wrote my full name down in his dainty little pocket-book. 'When you do get to Sydney you must come and look me up without fail. My studio is at the address on the card, and I'm generally to be found there. Mind, I shall expect a call as soon as you arrive, and we will talk things over. I'm certain you'll reach Sydney, by and by. Like London, at home, you know, it's the magnet for all the ambitious here. Good-bye, and best of good luck!' 'Mr. Charles Frederick Rawlence, Filson's House, Macquarie Street, Sydney,' was what I read on the card. And then, in very small type in one corner, 'Studio, 3rd Floor.' I think it had been the most vividly exciting day in my life up till then; and, though still an orphan, and officially an 'inmate,' I walked among the clouds that night; a giant among dwarfs and slaves by my way of it. Youth--aye, the immemorial magic of it was alive in my blood on this spring night, if you like; and not all the Sister Agathas in all the hierarchy of Rome had power to dull the wonder of it! VI 'If it's to be done at all, why not now? There's nothing to be gained by waiting. I'm only wasting time.'