“Don’t yer know ’er?” he repeated, pausing in his task of scooping some black cockroachy sugar from the bottom of a bin. “That’s the Hopal Queen! She’s hoff South, she is. Yer’ll be going in the coach, will yer?”
“Yes,” said Charlie. “We’re going in the coach. There’s no extra fare for travelling with such a swell, is there? Where on earth did she get all those opals?”
“Ho, blokes gives ’em to ’er, passin’ back from the hopal fields. In the rough, yer know! Hopal in the rough, well, it’s ’ard to tell what it’ll turn out, and they’ll give ’er a ’unk as sometimes turns out a fair dazzler. She’s a hay-one judge of it in the rough, too. If she buys a bit of hopal, yer bet yer life it ain’t a bad bit when it’s cut. What about these ’ere stores? Goin’ to take ’em with yer?”
“No,” said Charlie. “The black boy is here for them. He’s going to take them back with him.”
“What, Keogh’s black boy! Well, I don’t know as Pike’ll stand old Paddy Keogh any longer. Paddy’s ’ad a dorg tied hup ’ere” (i.e., an account outstanding) “this two years, and last time Pike was ’ome ’e was reck’nin’ it was about hup to Keogh to pay something.”
“They’re not for Keogh,” said Charlie. “They’re for me. I’ve taken Keogh’s block over.”
The old man looked at him dubiously.
“Well, but y’aint goin’ to tie hup no dorg on us for ’em, are yer? I s’pose it’s all right, though?”
“Right, yes,” said Gordon. “It’s for Mr. Grant, Old Man Grant,—you’ve heard of Grant of Kuryong?”
“Never ’eard of him,” said the aged man, “but it makes no hodds. Pay when yer like. Yer’d better git on the coach, for I see the Hopal Queen’s ready for a start. Yer’ll know her all right before long, I bet. Some of the fellers from round about ’as come in to give her a send-off like. There’s the coach ready; yer’d better git aboard, and yer’ll hear the-the send-off like. Young Stacy out there reckons ’e’s going to make a speech.”