"Did you say your father is a doctor?" asked Mr. Melrose, who was very much interested in this adventurous family, who seemed so well able to take care of themselves, and were roaming about the world without even the pretence of a guardian to look after them.
"Yes; he is Dr. Plumstead. Have you heard of him?" asked Sylvia, with the happy belief in her father's greatness which was characteristic of them all.
"I used to know a Dr. Plumstead some years ago, but I do not expect it was the same," said Mr. Melrose, looking as if he were going to say something more, and then suddenly changing his mind.
It was some days later, and they were nearing Cape Town, which was the halfway house of their journey, when Mr. Melrose, who had been keeping his cabin from illness, appeared again on deck, and, seeking Nealie out, laid an addressed envelope in her hand.
"It is the privilege of friends to help each other," he said quietly. "I know a man in Sydney who lets horses and wagons on hire, and I have ventured to give you a letter to him from myself, so that you may have no difficulty in hiring a conveyance for the journey to Hammerville if your father does not meet you."
"How very kind you are!" exclaimed Nealie.
He waved an impatient hand. "It is nothing, nothing. I may even be coming to New South Wales next year, if only my health is better, and then I shall do myself the pleasure of finding you out and renewing our acquaintance," he said.
"That will be very pleasant," replied Nealie, her hand closing upon the letter. "Then we can introduce you to Father, and tell him how kind you have been to us."
"We shall see; but I fancy the indebtedness is on my side," he answered, and then he turned abruptly away.
Nealie looked at him a little wistfully. He was so very friendly and kind up to a certain point; but when that was reached he was in the habit of retiring into himself, and she was left out in the cold.