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On this Page 18
The Twig is Bent
SERIAL STORY BY
CAPEL BOAKE
ILLUSTRATED BY RONALD BOCKING
Ullllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll'
Background
fHE scene is Victoria at the time of separation
from New South Wales. The story is of Mel-
bourne merchant JOHN ALLISTER and his family.
DELIA his second wife and her unhappy young
daughter SUSAN, and the grown-up children of a
former marriage-CHARLES (lawyer). RENNIE
(playboy) and JULIE who is being wooed by
DENNIS ALLINGHAM (a soldier). Rennie has be-
come involved with SMITH an ex-convict, and a
girl at MOTHER SCOTTY'S. He marries the girl
MAGGIE, and joins with SMITH in the Ballarat gold
rush. The. Allisters hear of the marriage and also of
a plan to rob the gold escort. Charles and Maggie
hasten to the fields.
.iHtiinmtuiiiiiiiiiiaiiiiitiiitiiititiiiifiiiiiiifiHiiitfitiiiiiiiifiiuiiiiiiiiiiiaiuiiiiiiitiiiiHmiiniuttuiiiiiivnuuiMiiMUfitiMiiiiiii^
r£*HÉ tall man sat down, slam-
ming his tankard on the table
and -stretched out his long legs.
"Want to talk to someone," he
said. "Can't get anyone to
' listen to me in this god-darned
country."
"Talk away," said Charles,
"Listen, pard," he proceeded,
leaning forward and resting his
elbow on the table, "I just want
to tell you how I've been
treated in this god-darned
country of yours. We came
here-there was a party of us,
?all good Americans. We'd read
about your colony over here
and thought you wanted men.
What happened?" He struck
the table with his fist. "By the
Almighty God, what happened?
We got to Hobson's Bay, and
the boatmen, the Jjghtermen,
the wharfingers-áll of them
competed to rob us. There was
. no quay to land ou% things, and j
we had to wait a month ito get
them off the ship. A month in
.Melbpurne, with all you people'
pulling us limb from limb to
make all you could out of us.
What do you think of that, eh?
Aren't you ashamed of your
god-darned country?"
"Have another drink," said
Charles.
He signalled to a passing bar-
man and had the tankards re-
filled,
"I haven't finished what I've
got to say,*' the tall man!
warned him. j
"Go on," said Charles.
The man took up his drink.
"Well," he continued, "at last
we got away-made off for
Beningo, the road nothing but
a god-darned bog the whole
way. A mile wide it was, and
seventy miles long. We nearly
lost our waggons in the mud.
We had hell's own time in get-
ting them through. Well, we
got 'em through at last. We êot
to Bendigo. And then what
happened? Did they welcome
us with open arms? Not much!
The police were down on us
for thirty shillings' licence fee
before we could dig a grain of
gold. I tell you, pard, there'll
be trouble on the fields one
day. God darn it!" he shouted.
"What the hell's wrong with
ybu people? Don't you want
men to stay in your god-darnec
country? Or do you just warn
to fleece 'em, then shove 'em
out?"
Charles shrugged his shoul-
ders and finished his drink.
"Have one ,with me?" the tal]
man asked him. "I haven't fin-
ished talking yet."
"All right."
The tankards were refilled.
"I'm not saying," the mar
continued, "that I haven't done
pretty well out here. I'm one
of the lucky ones. I've got a
nice little packet put away,
and I'd like to stay here. It's
a fine country. But you god
darned people won't sell me
any land. A fine open country
and nearly the whole lot-sixty
million acres-handed over tc
one thousand squatters foi
twenty pounds a year
each. Good business,
isn't it? 1*11 say it is
for the squatters. Sixty million
acres that would mean millions
of pounds in the value of land
and the cultivation of the coun-
try if they were thrown open.
Good business? Oh yes! Well,
I'm going. I'm getting back to
America and taking my packet
with me. I'll spend it over
there." He held up his tan-
kard. "Meaning no offence,
pard, but here's damnation to
the lot of you!"
Charles laughed and glanced
at his watch. "I quite agree
with you. We deserve it. Well,
I must be going. I have work
to do."
He threaded his way through
the crowded bar and out into
the street. He had'an impor-
tant brief that must be at-
tended to at once, then several
letters to write; but first he
must buy a gift for Marcelle.
He turned into the first jewel-
ler's shop he pässed.
When Charles, leading his
horse, turned in through the
gates that afternoon, GPes was
bus/ sweeping up the fallen
autumn leaves that littered the
lawns. Going into the house,
he walked swiftly along the
upper hall, passing the locked
door of what had once been
Susan's room, and entered
Julie's.
She turned towards him with
the listless expression to which
he was now so accustomed.
"You're home early."
"I'm not staying." He strolled
across the room, his hands in
his pockets. . "I'm staying in
town tonight. Tell Delia I
won't be here to dinner, will
you?"
"Yes. Are you dining with
the Ainsleys?"
"No. It's a stag party. By
the way, Alice wants you to be
her bridesmaid."
"Must I?"
"Yes," he answered curtly.
"For family reasons."
"Very well. What does Alice
want me to wear?"
Women, he thought irritably.
All this fuss about what to
wear! Alice had tried to dis-
cuss it with him, but he had
stopped hef. As though he
hadn't enough on his mind
without thinking of women's
clothes! "How on earth should
I know? You'll have to ask
her. I'll bring her out tomor-
row. Will that suit you?"
"Yes. I'll be here. Charles,"
she added after a pause,
"there's something I've been
wondering about-that girl at
the Queen's. You were en
"A fine open country and nearly the whole lot-sixty million acres-handed over to one thousand squatters for twenty pounds a year each. Good business, isn't it? Well, I'm getting back to America and taking my packet with me." Help
"A fine open country and nearly the whole lot-sixty million acres-handed over to one thousand squatters for twenty pounds a year each. Good business, isn't it? Well, I'm getting back to America and taking my packet with me." Help
"A fine open country and nearly the whole lot-sixty million acres-handed over to one thousand squatters for twenty pounds a year each. Good business, isn't it? Well, I'm getting back to America and taking my packet with me." Help
"A fine open country and nearly the whole lot-sixty million acres-handed over to one thousand squatters for twenty pounds a year each. Good business, isn't it? Well, I'm getting back to America and taking my packet with me." Help
"A fine open country and nearly the whole lot-sixty million
acres-handed over to one thousand squatters for twenty
pounds a year each. Good business, isn't it? Well, I'm
getting back to America and taking my packet with me."
gaged to Alice. Why did you
do it, Charles?"
He stared at her in silence.
"Delia told me," she went on
placidly. "She heard it at one
of her afternoons. They were
talking about it."
A pack of gossiping women,
he thought angrily. Aloud, he
remarked stiffly, "A modest
young woman shouldn't admit
to knowing such things."
"Don't be a prig, Charles!
Why shouldn't I admit it-es-
pecially when my brother
brings it home to mi?"
"A prig!" he returned, his face
flushed. "Am I a ?prig for
wishing your innocence to re-j
main unsullied?' As for those
women-those friends of
Delia's-" He threw out his
arms and stormed up and down
the room. "Discussing me over
afternoon tea-bandying 'my
name about to the clatter of tea
cups! Why can't they mind
their own business? It concerns
no^one but myself."
"No? What about Alice? Does
she know?"
"Alice?" He stopped short and
confronted her. "How can you
say such a thing? How could
she possibly know? Who would
dare tell her? I wish to God
I'd never seen the girl at the
Queen's," he went on heatedly.
"Anyone would think I'd com-
mitted a crime. And for some
none Help
none Help

one who didn't matter tha
much!" He snapped his fin
gers. "If ever a man had t<
pay for an act of folly, Tn

that man."

She looked at him reflectively
> "If she didn't matter, why dk

you do it?"

He turned on her angrily
"For heaven's sake stop pester
ing me about what doesn'i
concern you. A man drifts ink
such things. Don't ask me
why. In any case, you shouldn't
know' anything about it. It's
scandalous that Delia should
have told you. What did she
say?"

"That it was only what she
had expected of you, the Allist-
er having such strange tastes."

"So that's her attitude, is it?"
£e said. "And a damned un-
pleasant one, too."

But Julie's mind had wandered
from Delia and Alice and the
girl at the Queen's. "Charles,"
she murmured softly, "if a man
just drifts into such things, do
you think Denny would?"

"Oh. I see." He laughed
shortly. "You're not concerned
about me. but about him. Well,
you needn't worry. He

wouldn't. He's too much taken1
up with you."

"And there was no one who
mattered very much to you?"

He groaned, clasping his head
with both hands. "Stop asking
me these questions, Julie. I'm
not in the witness box."

"Poor Alice! When is the
wedding to be, Charles?"

"The end of May," he
answered shortly, picking up a
book, then flinging it down
again.

"And who's to be best man?"
"I'd like Denny."

"Denny." She smiled slightly.
"He'd like that. He has a
great admiration for you. I'm
sure I don't know why."

"He'd like it better if he were
the groom and you the bride."

She turned her head awaj
from him, and looked througr
the window to the grey curtail
of the sky.

"What's the matter with you
Julie?" he asked irritably
"Why can't you make up you;
mind? You can't keep hin
waiting indefinitely. He'll ge

tired of that."

She looked back at him again
There was a faint colour in he
cheeks. "No. He'll wait. H
understands how I feel,

can't marry him until-until

feel happy again. It wouldn
be fair to him."

Her words touched him. "Ai
right, Julie. But isn't ther
anything I can do to help?"

She pressed her hand to he
eyes. "I can't forget," sh
whispered. "That's the troubl<
I've tried so hard, but I can't

I can't!"

"You must." He took h<
, hand. "You must, Julie. Yo

can't live for ever in the pas
You haven't only yourself I
! think of."

, "I know. 'There's Denn
i But-nt), I'm not ready yet.

just can't feel anything. Isn't
that strange? I can't even hate
Delia for what she's done. Not

to feel anything-just an awful ¡
emptiness-" She thrust

away his hand. "Leave me <
alone, Charles. There's nothing :
you can do."

He turned away. There was

nothing he could do. "Well, I <
must be going," he said. "I be- ¡
lieve Delia's got some people :
coming this afternoon, and I

don't want to get mixed up with ;
them. But what an excitement ;
for them if I appeared!"

Looking down, he found{
Daniel, Maggie's and Susan's

cat, purring round his ankles.1
He picked him up and dropped
him on Julie's knee. "Spoilt
brute!" he said lightly. Then,
kissing her on the top of the

head, he left the room. 1

CHAPTER XXVH

'J'HE day on which Charles

and Alice were married was

one of brilliant sunshine.1
Everyone said it was Queen's(
weather, for was it not the

birthday of that most gracious 1
and beloved Queen Victoria, ;
whose pictured face stared out

upon her subjects from every 1
shop window, and from every ¡
hotel dining-room throughout
the colony? The town was
draped with flags. The band
of the 11th Regiment played
martial music on Eastern Hill.

The fathers of the town coun-1
eil led a solemn procession
through the streets, the mayor
heading it in his scarlet robes.
At night there was to be a ball
in her honour at the Royal
Hotel, and everyone of any con-
sequence, would be there. Only
the bridal pair would be absent.
They would be on board the
Sea Cloud, scheduled to leave
Queen's Wharf that afternoon
for Sydney.

The line of carriages outside
St. Peter's Church-white satin
bows on the harness, white satin
bows on the whips, coachmen
in handsome liveries--had at-
tracted a crowd of idlers, who
raised a cheer as the bridal
party came out. First there
came the groom, aloof and ar-
rogant, with the bride clinging
to his arm, her eyes downcast,
the sun shining on her fair hair.
After them came the guests and
relatives: Mr. Latrobe escort-
ing Mrs. Ainsley, the hand-
some Mr. Redmond Barry with
Mrs. John Allister on his arm,
other members of the Bar, two
young officers in scarlet and
gold, and most of the com-
mercial and professional fami-
lies of Melbourne. The crowd
cheered them all impartially,
then dispersed to drift into the
nearest hotel and drink Her
Majesty's health.

Happy the bride the sun shines
on, Mrs. Ainsley thought, as
she sat with her guests at the
long table in the room she her-
self had decorated with flowers
and silver bells, adding as a
final touch a large heart pierced
by a golden arrow, under which
the bridal couple now sat. Dear
Charles, she thought. Such a
nice young man. He looked a
little flushed and excited. Was
he perhaps drinking too much?
Well, that was to be expected.
Young men were always a
little wild. There was that
affair of his with the actress.
It was unfortunate that Alice
should have been told of it.

Most unfortunate. Alice had
been distressed. Why had Mrs.

Allister told her? No doubt
she had acted from the best mo-
tives, but surely it was unneces-
sary? It had almost resulted
in the engagement being broken
off. How Mrs. Ainsley had had
to plead with Alice! Young
men do such things, she had
told her again and again. Men]
are different from women. "But j

after you are married, darling,!
it won't happen again. Just go
on as though nothing had hap-!
pened. Never admit that you
know." And Alice, at long last,
had consented to say nothing to
Charles.

Mrs. Ainsley sighed. She felt
tired, for she had had a trying
morning. Alice had been dif-
ficult-pale and silent. So pale,
in fact, that Mrs. Ainsley had
added a touch of rouge to her
cheeks, warning her at the same
time not to make a habit of
using it, since only vulgar
women did that.

The scent of flowers was
heavy in the crowded room. The
champagne sparkled in the tall
crystal glasses. The cake of
three tiers had been cut. . The
toasts had been drunk and the
speeches were over. Mrs. Ains-
ley sighed. No-one was tak-
ing any notice of her. Her
partner on one side had scarely
spoken to her, while Mr. Al-
lister on the other side, though
he was very attentive to her,
was being continually inter-
rupted by Janet, Mr. Ainsley's

sister.

Mrs. Ainsley sighed again.'

Janet was like that. She was
always forcing her views on
people. James Matthews, hei
husband, was seated a little
lower down the table just be-
yond the range of his wife's
vision. Poor James must be
glad of that. Janet always kept
such a careful eye on him to
see that he didn't drink
too much. He seemed
to be drinking too much
now. Dear, dear, thought Mrs.
Ainsley, that would mean
trouble for him later on. He
was talking a lot, too, and
laughing quite loudly. Perhaps
it had been unwise to place him
next to that Mrs. Bennet. Not
that there was anything actu-
ally against Mrs. Bennet, except
that all the gentlemen liked
her. No one could doutt her

! respectability, but there must
be something not quite right.
Dear, dear, thought Mrs. Ains-
ley, leaning forward slightly.
James was really behaving very
strangely. He was looking into
the woman's eyes-and the
woman was actually encourag-
ing him. A married woman,
too. What could her husband
be thinking of?

Mrs. Ainsley looked away
hastily. Mrs. Bennet had
caught her eye, and smiled and
waved her hand; but Mrs. Ains-
ley found herself unable to re-
turn this friendly gesture. No,
no! A line had to be drawn
somewhere. Mrs. Bennet's
conduct was outrageous.

Those two young officers also
-they were drinking too much.
Why had Charles insisted they
should be asked? Some of his
boon companions, she sup-
posed. They were getting quite
noisy. It was really embarras-
sing. She was glad when a
glance from Mr. Latrobe
quelled them.

Mr. Latrobe-he was a gentle-
man. And so was Mr. Red-
mond Barry. They were sit

ting each side of Mrs. Allister,
and it was easy to see they
both admired* her. Gentlemen
liked looking at Mrs. Allister,
though she never had much to
say for herself. Poor thing,
thought Mrs. Ainsley, gazing at
Delia. She still wore mourning
for the death of her child. That
must have been a terrible blow
to her. Perhaps she would
never wear colours again. Al-
though, when one came to
think of it, black suited her
even better than colours; and
that was a lovely gown she was
wearing now. It must have
cost a lot of money.

Her glance strayed* to the top
of the table where the bridal
couple sat. How lovely Alice
looked, she thought. Perhaps
she would never look so lovely
again. And to think what lay

before her

Mrs. Ainsley wept.

Julie, ' seated opposite with
Denny beside her, saw her
tears. Why was Mrs. Ainsley
crying again? She wondered
impatiently. The Ainsleys had
got what they wanted. They
had Charles, and his own fam-
ily had lost him. His room at
home was empty. His books,
his clothes, his guns-every-
thing he possessed was gone.
He belonged to the Ainsleys
now, not to the Allisters.

There were too many Ainsleys
here, she thought looking
round, and not enough' Allisters.
There were only herself, her
father and Charles. And Delia,
of course. As she had expected,
Rennie had not accepted the
invitation to be present. He
had written to say that they
had struck gold at last, and
that he had to be on the spot.
He had, however, sent a hand-
some wedding gift, which had
come direct from Brentine's,
together with a card in his
sprawling handwriting, express-
ing the good wishes of himself
and his wife. The gift was a
silver epergne elaborately
carved with cupids and grapes.

Denny leaned over towards
her. "You look pale, Julie.
Are you. tired?"

"Yes, a little. But there'll be
time for a rest before the bali
tonight."

.That's the spirit! Will you
give me the first dance, Julie?"

"Of course. Whom do you
think I'd give it to? One of
those drunken oafs?" Her
scornful eyes indicated the
young officers, who had now
gone far beyond the influence
of Mr. Latrobe's chiding glance.
"I can't imagine why Charles
wanted them asked."

"Oh come, Julie! They're
really quite good fellows.
They're off to Ballarat next
week," he added. 'The whole
regiment's going."

"Whatever for?"

"To keep order. Latrobe's
afraid of the diggers." He
picked up his glass again. "Who
knows? Some day both sides
may start shooting."

She leant her elbow on the
table and turned to look at him.
"How calmly you say it! But
of course, men always
think that shooting can settle
anything. As though it ever

did!"

"It's settled a few things dur-
ing the course of history," he
remarked. "It settled Napoleon

(Continued on page 21.)

y he TM ff te ßent

(Continued from page 19.)

at Waterloo, and sent him into

exile."

She began to argue with him.
Allister, watching them from
the other side of the table, was
pleased to see jt. lt was a long
time since she had shown so
much animation. He would
be glad when they were mar-
ried, he thought. He intended
giving them a trip to England
for their honeymoon, but had
not mentioned this to either
of them yet.

He glanced at his watch-he
seemed to have been sitting
here for hours-and realised
with a sense of exasperation
that Mrs. Ainsley was crying
again. He did not know which
were worse-Mrs. Ainsley's
tears, or Mrs. Matthews's views

on the immigration question,
which she kept coupling with
the assertion that the ' colony
should be made a convict
settlement. She would then, it
seemed, have no difficult in
obtaining indented female
labour.

It was now already after three,
and the ship left at five. Why
didn't Mrs. Ainsley make a
move? Charles was getting im-
patient and showed it, while
Alice-how curiously expres-
sionless she looked! Poor child!
He hoped Charles would make
her happy.

Presently Alice left, witlv her
mother, to change her gown,
after which the company rose

generally, and disintegrated intoj

little groups. The two young

I

officers, seeing there was no
more champagne to be had,
drifted into the drawing-room,
and saluted with mock solem-
nity the portrait of Queen Vic-
toria. The younger then sat
down at the piano and began
to play the "Blue Danube"
waltz.

The company needed no per-
suasion. The champagne had
banished any reserve or any
question of propriety. Julie
and Denny, coming from the
dining-room, had to thread
their way through the moving
figures in the hall. They paused
¡to watch the scene. Mrs. Ben-
net passed them in the arms of
Mr. Matthews, her black eyes
j flashing, her red lips smiling.
At a pause in the music she
came to Denny and made him
a low bow.

"Please," she said. "The next
dance with you."

Denny flushed, glanced at
Julie and hesitated. But Mrs.
Bennet, as the music started
again, put her arm through his.

"You don't mind, do you?"
she asked, flashing a smile at
Julie.

"Certainly not," Julie returned
stiffly.

She watched them as they
danced, vaguely dismayed.
Then she was aware of Charles
by her side.

"Let's get out of this,'1 he said
abruptly. "I can't stand all this
horse-play. Ainsley's been too
lavish with the champagne."

They went out on to the ver-
andah. Allister joined them
and the three paced slowly up
the path, arm in arm, glad to
I be together for a little while

in the mild brightness of the
late Autumn day. The branches
of the Lombardy poplars were
etched against the pale blue
sky. A line of carriages waited
outside the gates. Beyond was
a group of gum-trees. their
bronze green leaves shining in
the sunlight.

"I've engaged a carriage from
Kirk's," Charles said suddenly.
"It's wàiting at the back gate.
We're going to slip away quietly
without telling, anyone. The
maid'll let me know when Alice
is ready."

"Will Ainsley like that?" Al-
lister inquired.

"Probably not, but that doesn't
matter. He needn't think I'm

going to parade through the
streets looking like a digger's
wedding. I don't want anyone
to come down to the ship."

"Not even us?" asked Julie.

"No." He pressed her arm.
"You don't mind, do you? You
see, if you came the Ainsleys
would have to come too, and
Mrs. Ainsley would flood every-
thing with tears. I don't want
anyone to know we've just been
married. I hope to heaven,"
he added, "that*Alice won't be
seasick."

"If she is you'll have to look
after her," said Julie, laugh-
ing. "Or maybe you'll be sick
and she'll have to look after
you."

He waved the suggestion aside
impatiently, and looked at his
watch, muttering under his

breath.

"There's the girl now " said
Julie, seeing a black-clad -figure
on the verandah beckoning to
them urgently. "Alice musí be
ready."

"Yes," said Charles, "'lt's
time to go." He cleareo his
throat.

(Continued. on page 59«)

The Jutty ti ßent

(Continued from page 21.)

They stood in silence for a
moment, looking at each other.

"I'll come with you to the
gate," said Allister. "I'd like
to see Alice before she goes."

Julie felt a sense of desola-
tion sweep over her. She held
out her hand. "Goodbye."

He took her hand and drew
her to him, kissing her on the
cheek. "I'll be back soon.
Things won't change, Juiie
even though I am married."

Her eyes were wet as she
clung to him. "Goodbye,
Charles. Be happy."

fHe gave a twisted smile,

waved his hand, then walked
with his father along the path
towards the back of the house.

Julie stared after them. She

felt terribly alone. Even Denny j
had deserted her, to dance with
Mrs. Bennet. She sat on a
seat in the centre of the lawn.
It was good to feel the warmth
of the sun soaking through her
skin. If Denny wanted her he
could come and find her. Pre-
sently she saw him striding
across the lawn. He looked
pleased with himself, she
thought, as he sat down beside

her.

"I didn't know you were alone,
Julie. I though Charles was
with you."

"Charles has gone."
"Gone?"

"Yes. He wanted to avoid
the crowd that you find so
amusing." And, rising, she
sauntered off across the lawn.

He looked after her, frowning,
then suddenly gave a laugh and
sprang up. Julie was jealous,
He knew where he was now.

He strode after her and caught
her into his arms, swinging hei
into the shadow of a little sum-
merhouse. "Julie!"

She struggled with him, moan-
ing a little as though she wen
in pain. "Leave me alone! ]
. hate you-I hate you!"

t "Oh no, you don't!" Hi?
I mouth found hers. He felt hei

I Instant response. "Oh, Julie!'

He held back her head am
stared into\her face, his own ai
pale as hers. "Do you knov
what's happened? You're aliv<
again. Oh Julie-"

CHAPTER XXVni.

fHE incredible riches of Ben

, digo, the dazzling glorie
of the later discoveries in Bal
larat, further intoxicated ai
already intoxicated country
, Still the tide of immigratioi

poured in, daily increasing thi
sense of chaos and confusion ii
the overcrowded town. Cob!
the American started a line o

j coaches-leviathan monsters

\ spanking smartly along th»

I roads where once the waggon

? had toiled up to the axles ii

mud. More Commissioner
were appointed on the fields
assistant Commissioner^, junio
Commissioners-and wert
hated because of their, insol
i ence, arrogance and rapacity
Meanwhile the cost of admin
» istration went up, and Latrobe

alarmed at what he seemed un
able to check, increased tl*
licence fee, only to withdraw i
hastily upon a noisy demonstra
tion by the diggers-a sign o
weakness not to be forgotten.

Rennie shared in the newly
tapped riches of Ballarat. He
wrote that he was now a
wealthy man, and added the
unexpected news that a son had
been born to him, whom Mag-
gie had called John after his
grandfather. Allister smiled
rather sourly at this. Grand-
children were so incontestable
a commentary upon the pass-
ing of the years.

Early in the new year Alice
was to have a child, and
Charles hoped that would fill
her life and give her another
object on which to. fix her de-
vouring affection. He envied
the simplicity of the Relation-
ship between Julie and Denny,
neither of whom gave more or
less than the other. They had
been married a month after his
return from Sydney and were

now in London.

His son was born late in Feb-
ruary on a day of brassy skies,
with a north wind howling
through the streets and bush
fires sweeping the ranges. He
passed the day in his study, in
moody contemplation, inter-
rupted at frequent intervals by
Mrs. Ainsley who, with stream-
ing eyes, told him how Alice
was suffering.

The next morning he was al-
lowed to see Alice, Mrs. Ain-
sley ushering him into the
room. He looked at the pale,
spent .girl with dark purplish
shadows under her eyes.

She looked at him steadily
without speaking, then raised
her hand and pointed to the
child lying in the bassinet be-

side the bed.

Mrs. Ainsley gently picked up
the squirming infant. "Look,
Charles! He's like you. Hold
him a minute. Aren't you proud

of him?"

Charles made no effort to take
the child-merely stared down
at the red, puckered face.

Alice raised herself on her el-
bow. "He's not to have him,"
she said. "Give him to me."

Mrs. Ainsley hesitated. "Oh,
but darling! You must let
Charles hold him-just for one

little moment."

"No," said Alice. "He's mine
--all mine."

"Tut, tut!" sàïd her mother,
clicking her teeth. 'That's a
nice way to talk to your hus-

band."

But Charles, turning . quietly,
left the room. He understood
how Alice felt. It had been she,
not he, who. had brought lovfe
to the making of their child.
It was she who had suffered.
He went to his office, where he
sat for a long time staring at
the brief before him. "He's
mine-all mine," Alice had
said. Perhaps every woman
thought that. Perhaps Maggie
had thought it when her son
was born and Rennie stood be-
side her. Two Allister boys
Rennie's, .and his own! Some
day their paths must cross.

Allister heard with resigna-
tion of the birth of his second
grandson. The family was
growing. It did not surprise
him that Delia should now em-
phasise to her friends that she
was the second Mrs. Allister.

(Continued on page 60.)

Tlie Ttoif U Sent

(Continued Crom previous page.)

But his main preoccupation
at this time was the increasing
discontent on the goldfields.
The diggers distrusted Latrobe
and the Government officials,
were hostile- to the police, and
resented the presence of the
military who were camped near
the fields. Moreover, they had
no votes, and were unrepre-
sented in the legislature of the
country. This concerned thc
more liberal-minded members

of the community, and Allister
attended a meeting at the Pro-
testant Hall in which the whole
situation was reviewed.

Shortly after this, the report
of the ffirst outbreak on the
fields reached Melbourne. It
occurred on the Ovens diggings
where-accidentally, it was
said-a miner was killed by a
constable during the ejecting of
a party who had no licences
for the claim they were work-
ing. A riot ensued, and one of
the assistant Commissioners
was roughly handled, but the
threat of armed force ulti-
mately quelled the miners. Tfie

news of this outrage inflamed
public opinion in Melbourne.
Latrobe was blamed for the in-
cident, and fiery Johnny Fawk-
ner stumped the streets, ad-
dressing public meetings at
which Latrobe was loudly con-
demned and his recall de-

manded. Day after day the
"Argus" printed an advertise-
ment: "Wanted a Governor.
Apply to the people of Vic-
toria." Ànd many other news-
papers began taking up arms in
the same campaign.

(To be Continued.)

_,_._._._._A

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