“Then I must just tell myself. Let's see now: your father—ha! ha!—was old Teesdale's old friend, and luckily for you he'd warned them his daughter was something out of the common. That was luck! And you were out of the common! Hasn't 'Bella told me the things you said and did, till I was sick and tired? Faith, I'd have listened better if I'd dreamt it was you! I remember her saying you brought a letter of introduction, however; and that you must have stole, my beauty!” Missy cleared her throat. “You're a liar,” she said. “I found it.” “You found it! That's a lot better, isn't it? A fat lot! Anyhow, out you came, to pose as my young lady from Home till further orders. And my oath, it was one of the cheekiest games I've heard of yet!” “I only came out for a lark,” Missy said sullenly. “It was they that put it into my head to come back and stay. I couldn't help it. It was better here than in Melbourne. Much better!” “Morally, eh?” “What do you mean?” “I mean, this is a cleaner life than t'other—what?” “It is. Thank God!” Stanborough laughed. (Missy had known him under another name, but she was hardly in a position to gain anything by reminding him of that.) “A mighty fine life,” said he, “with a mighty fine lie at the bottom of it!” “Yes,” said Missy slowly, “that's true enough. But I'm a better sort than when I came here, I know that!” “A better sort, eh? Ha! ha! ha! That's good, that is. That's very good indeed.” But the girl was too much in earnest to heed the sneers. “You may laugh as you like—it's God's truth,” cried she. “And Melbourne will never see me no more, nor London neither. Why? 'Cause when I clear out of this, I clear up-country; and up-country I shall live ever after; yes, and very likely marry and die respectable. So you can go on jeering——” “Stop! Not so fast,” said Stanborough. “You seem to have got it all cut and dried; but when did you think of clearing out of this? Suppose you're safe till there's been time for the mails home and out again. That takes three months; you've been here more than one already, and you meant to stop just one month more. Good! very good indeed. Sorry your one month more has gone so quickly—sorry it's only one more night instead. However, that's the misfortune of war. Quite understand? Not another month—another night only—that's to-night—and a little bit of tomorrow.” Missy remarked at length: “So you mean to give me away; I might have known that.” “Of course I do. Six months hard, that's what you will get.” Missy shuddered. Her tormentor watched her and continued: “So that makes you sit up, does it, my dear? She didn't know she was breaking the law, didn't she? She'll find out soon enough—find out what it costs to pass yourself off as another person, in this Colony—find out what the inside of Carlton Jail's like, too! Not go back to town. That was good, that was.” The girl could only pant and glare and wring her hands. More followed in the same strain.