“Well, well! Never heard tell of him—you who've heard me tell of him time out o' mind! Nay, come; why, you're called after him yourself! Ay, we called you after John William Oliver because he was the best friend that ever we had in old Yorkshire or anywhere else; the very best; and you pretend you've never heard tell of him.” “What had he got to say for himself?” said Mr. Oliver's namesake, with a final examination of the outside of his barrels. “Plenty; he's sent one of his daughters out in the Parramatta, that got in with the mail yesterday afternoon; and of course he had given her an introduction to me.” “What's that?” exclaimed John William, looking up sharply, as he ran over the words in his ear. “I say, father, we don't want her here,” he added earnestly. “Oh, did you find out where she was? Have you seen her? What is she like?” cried Arabella, jumping up from the table and joining the others with a face full of questions. She had that instant finished her chapter. “I don't know what she's like; I didn't see her; I couldn't even find out where she was, though I tried at half a dozen hotels and both coffee-palaces,” said the farmer with a crestfallen air. “All the better!” cried John William, grounding his gun with a bang. “We don't want none of your stuck-up new chums or chumesses here, father.” “I don't know that; for my part, I should love to have a chance of talking to an English young lady,” Arabella said, with a backward glance at her Family Cherub. “They're very rich, the Olivers,” she added for her brother's benefit; “that's their house in the gilt frame in the best parlour, the house with the tower; and the group in the frame to match, that is the Olivers, isn't it, father?” “It is, my dear; that's to say, it was, some sixteen years ago. We must get yon group and see which one it is that has come out, and then I'll read you Mr. Oliver's letter, John William. If only he'd written a mail or two before the child started! However, if we've everything made snug for her to-night, I'll lay hands on her to-morrow if she's in Melbourne; and then she shall come out here for a month or two to start with, just to see how she likes it.” “How d'ye know she'll want to come out here at all?” asked John William. “Don't you believe it, father; she wouldn't care for it a little bit.” “Not care for it? Not want to come out and make her home with her parents' old friends? Then she's not her father's daughter,” cried Mr. Teesdale indignantly; “she's no child of our good old friends. Why, it was Mr. Oliver who gave me the watch I——hush! Was that your mother calling?” It was. “David! David! Have you got back, David?” the harsh voice came crying through the lath-and-plaster walls. Mr. Teesdale scuttled to the door. “Yes, my dear, I've just got in. No, I'm not smoking. Where are you, then? In the spare room? All right, I'm coming, I'm coming.” And he was gone. “Mother's putting the spare room to rights already,” Arabella explained.