“My word,” he said, “it was a good yarn, and well told. Why that man Stanley speaks as good English, and almost as good grammar, as if he had been to college,—and mostly self-taught they say. I thought that gipsies in England were a sort of half-breeds, who made tin kettles and ‘jackshays,’ those quart pots, you know, and ‘planted’ people’s fowls and things; but this fellow’s a gentleman, and—”
His remarks were here interrupted by the entrance of the individuals in question, and the conversation was abruptly changed by the young “native,” for such is a white person termed who is born in the colonies, who from that moment, as he intimated to Mrs. Marvin, intended “to take a back seat.”
During supper-time the conversation turned upon many interesting subjects connected with the past adventures of our twins. From these it drifted into colonial matters, the latest news from “home” as England is always so referred to in the colonies; and the party broke up.
Mat could get but little sleep that night; the events of the evening had been almost too much for his otherwise strong nerves.
Besides the excitement of his lecture, and the remembrance of that, thoughts of a softer nature rushed through his mind.
It must be remembered that his experience of woman-kind had been of the roughest description, amounting to an exchange of chaff with the lassies at the Hampshire fairs, and owing to the nature of his occupation and mode of life in and around the gipsy camp, he had but rarely come in contact with the better class of New Forest “squatters” in his old home.
Bearing this in mind, let us follow his thoughts as he lay awake in the town of Sydney, New South Wales.
“I’ve met to-night for the second time a real lady, and such a beautiful and gentle lady. I wonder whether they are all like her. Oh, but how she has altered! Would she laugh at me if she knew I had stuck to ‘Robinson Crusoe.’ I expect she’d only open her eyes big, as she did to-night, when she seemed surprised. What a fool she must have thought me! I couldn’t even say anything civil. I don’t know what came over me. I could talk easily enough to that big crowd of people, and to Mrs. Marvin, and be civil to her. Perhaps Captain Marvin’s cigars are too strong for me. Yes; that must be it.”
Having thus determined the nature of his malady, though not entirely to his satisfaction, our forester turned over, and went to sleep.