"That is you. What made a gold-digger of you?"
The young man shrugged his shoulders.
"A thirst for freedom and adventure. That answer will do as well as another, I suppose. I was cramped up in the old country, so I thought I would come where there was room to move and breathe."
"You find it here."
"Rather!"
He inflated his lungs, and expelled the air with vigorous enjoyment.
"What part of the old country do you hail from?" There was an unconscious tenderness in their tones as they spoke of their native land.
"Devon--dear old Devon. Oh, for a tankard of real Devonshire cider!"
Mr. Hart sighed. "You have home ties, then?"
"Yes, I have an old father at home, who is old only in years. Let us drink to him." He took a tin saucepan half filled with cold tea, and handed it to Mr. Hart, who drank from it, and returned it. "He is about your age, I should say. Have you been long in the colony?"