She got up and laid them in a row on the tablecloth under the lamp. The others had risen also; and John William, for one, had his eyes fixed upon the little roll of paper in her right hand. It was a roll of one-pound notes. She began to lay them one by one upon the table, counting aloud as she did so. “One, two, three, four, five, six—-” “Stop a moment,” said David, trembling. “How did you come by them, Missy?” “Seven, eight. Didn't I tell you that I've been working all this time upon a farm? Nine——” “Ah, yes, you did.” There had been a few explanations—a very few—when John William had first brought her in. Then dry clothes, then supper, then silence. It must be remembered that the shadow of death hung over the farm. “Ten. I was there thirty-three weeks last Saturday. Eleven. They gave me ten shillings a week, and they found me—twelve—in food and clothes. I had things to put up with—thirteen—but nothing I couldn't bear. I was thankful you'd taught me to milk here. Fourteen, fifteen. I was so! Sixteen, and that's the lot. Sixteen and four's twenty. Twenty pound I got out of you, Mr. Tees-dale, because I couldn't resist it when you said what you may recollect saying as you drove me back into Melbourne that first day. I never meant to pay you back; I wasn't half sure that I'd ever let you see me again. I don't say I should have done it if I'd known you'd go and pawn your watch for me; still I did do you out of the twenty pounds, and I meant to do you out of them for good and all. But here they are.” “Thank you, Missy,” said David at last. The others said nothing at all. “Thank me! I don't want you to thank me at all. What have I done but rob you and pay you back again? No—I only want you—to forgive me—if you can!” “I do forgive you, my dear; but I forgave you long ago,” said David, smoothing back her hair and kissing her upon the forehead. “You two forgive me, I know,” she said, turning to the others. Arabella embraced her tearfully, but John William only laughed sardonically. What had he to forgive? “I knew you did. So now there is only one thing more that I want to send me away happy.” “Send you away! Where to? You've only just come,” cried Mr. Teesdale, as loud as he dared; but even as he spoke he remembered the special difficulty of the occasion, and his face twitched with the pain. “Why, where did you think of going to?” he added, wiping his lips with his red pocket-handkerchief.