The stream of life began to flow very happily for me then.

They say money isn’t everything, but I was soon finding that if you have it, most things come your way.

I got to know all the nicest people in Adelaide, and as a wealthy young unmarried man was quickly admitted everywhere.

Percy Thornton and I became great friends. We had so many tastes in common and we went out a lot together.

We naturally talked of almost everything under the sun, but by tacit consent we never mentioned Mary.

I knew he had been for a long time sweet in that quarter, and he must have somehow guessed how my feelings were in that direction too.

I met Mary quite often now, but could not somehow manage ever to get her alone to myself.

I had been twice to dinner at Aviemore, and once to a dance there. It was always heaven to me to be where Mary was, but outwardly at all events, my courting had not progressed nearly as rapidly as I had hoped.

I knew for certain, however, there was a sure understanding between us, and when, in saying good-bye I used to hold her hand rather longer than necessary, she used to answer me back with such a calm challenging look in her pretty eyes that I always went away in a terrible hunger of longing until I should see her again.

We were both of us only just waiting for our happiness, I knew.

Commonsense, however, told me not precipitately to hurry matters. Sir Henry was, I knew quite well, most punctilious and rather old fashioned in all social and family matters, and he would have considered it, I was sure, a great piece of impudence if I had too openly shown my hand upon so short an acquaintanceship.

So the weeks rolled on.

I had made one enemy, however, Leonard Hounsell, the owner of Red Pottage. He had never forgiven me for Rataplan beating his animal at the Port Meeting. Rumour had it that he had lost two thousand pounds by my success.

One afternoon Percy Thornton remarked to me, “I say, Stratton, that man Hounsell is always grousing everywhere about Rataplan. He says, old man, that you’re a damn bad rider, and only won by a fluke.”

“Oh, he does, does he,” I replied. “Well I’ll just get Master Hounsell on toast.”

I looked for an opportunity, but didn’t get it for some days. Then one afternoon I met the owner of Red Pottage in the lounge of Tattersall’s Club.

He gave me a curt nod, which I acknowledged with an even curter one. I made as if to move away, and then stopped as I suddenly remembered something.

“Oh, by the bye, Mr. Hounsell,” I said loudly so as to attract every one’s attention, “I understand you rather think Rataplan’s beating of Red Pottage at Cheltenham the other day a little bit of a fluke, don’t you?”

Hounsell hesitated a moment, and seemed slightly uncomfortable, but he couldn’t well get out of replying to so direct a question.

“Well, if you ask me — frankly I do,” he replied. “My opinion is that Red Pottage would beat your animal three times out of four.”

“All right,” I replied, “then let’s run it over again. I’m quite willing. Let’s make a match of it, same weights, same distance, same riders, and ￡500 a side — whenever you like.”

He seemed taken aback at my bringing the matter to a head so quickly, and hummed and hawed a long while before replying. Then he said slowly:—

“Well, I’ll consider it. I would run it off tomorrow, but Red Pottage has been coughing, and is no good for awhile. I’ll let you know later.”

I knew it was a lie, and so did every one else there. But I let it go at that, and moved off contemptuously.

One day about a week after the meeting at the club, I thought I noticed a slight change in Sir Henry. I met him at lunch at a mutual friend’s, and to my astonishment he seemed very short in his answers when I spoke, and very disinclined to talk to me at all.

I thought perhaps he wasn’t feeling very well, and consequently didn’t take much notice of it. But meeting him about a week later in the street, he was going to pass me by if I hadn’t stopped him, with just a half smiling little nod, and I knew at once that something was wrong.

We exchanged just a few commonplace remarks and then, apologising he was in a hurry, he went off abruptly, leaving me with a very unpleasant feeling in my mind.

What on earth had I done, I thought? I had put my foot in it somehow, I was positive, but the difficulty I knew, would be to find out exactly what fault I had committed.

I expected, however, to meet both Sir Henry and Mary at Morphettville the following Saturday, and might, I thought, find out something then. Sir Henry was running a two-year-old there. But to my disgust none of the Vane family put in an appearance, and it was left to Percy Thornton to tell me that they had gone motoring for the day.

I began to get anxious, for I knew it was not like Sir Henry to run any of his horses and not be present to see them run.

A fortnight went by and I had not got even so much as a glimpse of either Mary or her father. They seemed to have suddenly dropped out of my life.

They were at Aviemore I knew, and all quite well, for Percy Thornton had been playing billiards up there several nights.

I didn’t know at all what to do. I kept a stiff upper lip and went about smiling, but to myself I was miserable, and, soldier as I had been, tears were always near my eyes.

When things were blackest, however, the sun came out in all its glory. I met Mary in King William Street.

She was walking with another girl I knew slightly, and we all stopped at once when we met.

Mary had blushed to a most lovely colour on seeing me, but she was quite composed, and gave me her hand in her usual pretty way.

“Oh, Mr. Stratton, how fortunate,” she said, “you know Miss North, don’t you? I wanted particularly to see you. I have something to tell you. Clara,” she went on, turning to her friend, “you want to do some more shopping dear, don’t you? Well, Mr. Stratton promised the other day to give me the best ice cream in Adelaide, and I’ll hold him to his word now. It’s half-past eleven, and you’ve got just half an hour. Meet me at twelve exactly, just in front of the Bank of Adelaide.”

Her friend bustled off in a most tactful way, and Mary turned to me with a little catch in her voice.

“Now, Mr. Stratton — take me somewhere — I really want an ice, and it’s the very least you can give me for the fib I’ve just been telling for you.” Then she added with a little smile, “I don’t know what poor father would say. I believe it’s most improper for me to come alone with you, but I shall have to risk it. So come along quickly.”

Everything had happened so suddenly that I had hardly managed to get in a word, but it was all bearing out what I had always thought. Sweet and clinging as Mary always looked, there was nothing undetermined about her character, and behind all those pretty gentle ways there was a courage and resource that would be used unsparingly in the service of the man she loved.

I led her down some stairs into a cafe, and choosing a table in a quiet corner of the room, we sat down in the cool semi-darkness to enjoy our first conversation alone together.

The cafe was almost empty, and we had our part of the room entirely to ourselves.

I was in the seventh heaven to think of the confidence she had in me, but at the same time knowing more of the world than she did, I was feeling rather nervous lest any one who knew her should see us there. Her father would be so annoyed, I thought.

She sat opposite to me with only a little narrow table between us, and she looked so sweet and pretty. Her face was gently flushed with the excitement, and her large blue eyes sparkled with interest and animation.

“It’s awfully sweet of you to come down here, Miss Mary,” I said, “but I really don’t think I ought to have brought you. Sir Henry’s very particular I know, about this sort of thing.”

“Oh, never mind my father, Mr. Stratton, I’ll make it all right with him if he ever hears about it. I had to come to speak to you.”

“I wanted to speak to you badly,” I replied tenderly, “do you know I haven’t seen you now for over three weeks?”

“What a dreadful time! I wonder you’ve existed.”

“Well, I’ve been very unhappy about it, and very worried to know why it was — I couldn’t believe it was only accident.”

“No, it wasn’t accident. Some one’s been putting father against you, Mr. Stratton, and that’s why you have not been asked up.”

“What on earth have I done? Have I been looking at you too much?”

She turned her eyes away for a moment, and then gave me a deliciously arch look.

“I didn’t say I had complained, did I?” she said demurely, “perhaps I haven’t noticed it.”

“Well, I meant you to notice it, anyhow,” I went on, “but what have I done to upset Sir Henry?”

“I don’t quite know, Mr. Stratton, and it’s because I want you to put yourself right that I’m telling you now.”

“You haven’t the least idea, Miss Mary?”

“Yes,” hesitating, “it’s something about you and the police.”

“Oh, that’s nothing,” I cried in great relief. “I can soon explain that. I know what they mean right enough.”

“They told father you’d been arrested once.”

“Well — so I have been — but it was all a mistake, and afterwards I was able to do the Chief Commissioner what he always considers a very great service.”

“You’re quite friends with General Edis, aren’t you? I mean with the Chief.”

“Yes, certainly I am; he’s the best friend I have in Adelaide.”

“That’s what I told father. I knew from the way the Chief spoke of you one day at our house that you must be good friends. But you see, Mr. Stratton, father is one of the old sort, and fearfully sensitive about anyone who comes to our house.”

“And quite right, too, but I wonder now who’s been trying to make mischief.”

Mary was silent for a moment, and then said rather reluctantly, “I don’t know for certain, but I think it was that horrid Mr. Hounsell. Father met him the other day with Admiral James.”

“Quite probably,” I said grimly, “he hates me like poison after the Red Pottage business. But how do you think now I can best put myself right?”

“Well, I think I can tell you. You’re going to the James’ to dinner next Wednesday, aren’t you? We’re all going. Mr. Hounsell will be there too, and also the Chief. Mr. Hounsell doesn’t dream you’re friends with the Chief, for he told a friend of father’s that it would be a sight to see your face when you met the Chief. Ask the Chief to bring up the whole thing casually in the course of conversation at dinner. The Brigadier’s got plenty of tact, and is just the man to do it nicely. Don’t you think so?”

“Yes, I do, and he’s the very man to love taking a rise out of a mischief maker! I’ll go and see him before Wednesday. But now what about you — you’re sure you’re coming, aren’t you?”

“Quite sure. Father’s a dear old thing, and didn’t want to take me at first, but I made him promise. You know, Mr. Stratton, he quite liked you before this happened.”

“Of course he did,” I said stoutly, “I wanted him to. I liked coming up to your place. There are attractions there.”

Mary smiled roguishly, and I asked her if she’d like some sweets. She thanked me, but said no.

“I suppose you think you’re sweet enough yourself without them,” I said smiling back at her.

“I didn’t say so,” she replied in the same vein.

“Well, some people might say you wouldn’t be far wrong if you did. But don’t put on your gloves yet.”

“Oh, but I must, Mr. Stratton — we’ve been here quite long enough.”

“One moment, just let me look at your hand; did you know I can tell fortunes?” She obediently passed over a pretty little hand, and I held it tightly and pretended to look at the lines.

“Hum,” I said meditatively, “you’ve got an admirer, and he’s eating his heart out for you. I see he’s going to propose to you soon.”

She pulled her hand away at once, but smiled happily at me with heightened colour.

“Probably I shan’t accept him,” she said, “you men are always so certain, aren’t you?”

“Oh, no,” I replied earnestly, “when a man’s really in love he’s awfully humble. He knows he’s not half nice enough for the girl he loves. But look here, Miss Mary — if I send you up some flowers for Wednesday, will you wear them?”

“Certainly not; why, poor father would have a fit if any strange flowers came to the house. He’d shut me up for a week. But what sort of flowers would you have liked to have sent me?”

“Pink and white roses for preference — but you’ve none fine enough at Aviemore.”

“None fine enough,” she said indignantly, “why you know roses are one of father’s hobbies, and we’ve the very finest ones in the State in our garden.”

“But none fine enough,” I replied stubbornly shaking my head.

Mary laughed prettily and got up to go. “Good-bye, Mr. Stratton, if you don’t mind I’ll go out alone. I’m sorry I can’t take your flowers for Wednesday, but if I’m in a good humour that night I’ll wear some pink and white roses that I shall have picked for myself, and if you should see me wearing them — you can be thinking you gave them to me yourself. Good-bye, Mr. John.”

And off she tripped before I could fully take in the sweet confession wrapped in her good-bye.

Waking and sleeping, I was for ever thinking of Mary in the ensuing days.

I had now practically told her openly that I was going to ask her to marry me, and she in return, had let me know almost as openly that when I did, she would not be sending me away.

I cursed that wretched Hounsell for his mischief making, and determined to leave no steps unturned to set myself right with Sir Henry at once.

On the Monday I called on the Chief, but found to my dismay he was away in Melbourne, and would not be back until the Wednesday morning. I left a note for him, however, where he would be sure to get it the moment he returned. I didn’t write much, I only just said:—

“Dear Chief — I am under a little bit of a cloud in a certain quarter because of my one time association with your department. Would you very nicely put things right casually at dinner on Wednesday evening? Let me down lightly, but you needn’t keep much back.

In grief and sorrow,

Sincerely yours,

JOHN STRATTON.”

“P.S. — Mary’s all right.”

I felt very anxious until the Wednesday evening arrived, but directly I got up to the house I took my courage in my hands and determined whether the Chief came to my help or not to give myself a good run for my money.

I was a little late in arriving, and most of the company were already assembled in the drawing-room when I was ushered in.

Mary and her father were there, also Leonard Hounsell, and to my great joy, the Chief.

They were all talking together, and save for Mary, who gave me a little encouraging smile, my entrance at first was almost unnoticed.

I shook hands with Mrs. James and the admiral, and then passing round said “How-do-you-do,” to Mary and Sir Henry. Sir Henry was quite nice, but only smiled a little gravely.

It was quite a big gathering in honour of the admiral’s birthday, and there were lots of people there that I had got to know.

We chatted generally together for a few minutes, and then the Chief turning round apparently noticed me for the first time.

“Hello, John,” he exclaimed so loudly that everyone’s attention was attracted at once, “where have you been hiding? You’re getting so proud now with all your racing successes that you won’t even notice some of your old friends.”

Dear old Chief, I thought. You are a good pal. You’re losing no time, but mean to get in a good blow at once.

I shook hands cordially with him, and he drew me partly on one side with the admiral and retailed to us one of the latest jokes going about the city.

Everybody was looking at us. Sir Henry puckered up his eyebrows evidently very puzzled, and as for Mr. Leonard Hounsell, he looked as spitefully sick as his worst enemy could wish.

Dinner was duly announced, and to my surprise and joy, Mary was given me to take in. Evidently the admiral, I thought, knew nothing of the cloud I was under.

I have often in later years looked back in memory to that dinner party, and always with such happy feelings of remembrance.

There were twenty-four of us, and we all sat at one very long table. There was not too much room, and I was sitting so close to Mary that I was conscious all the time of the warmth of her dear body next to mine. Then, too, when the admiral’s champagne began to circulate, conversation was so insistent and so fluent all the way round, that any couple if they so wished, could talk together in the hubbub almost as unnoticed as if they were alone.

At any ra............