“I think I’d rather do without them,” replied Hope, who was sedate beyond her years. “Perhaps I should not tell you that mother sold those pictures in the gold frame to buy us clothes and things.”
“Of course, pictures are very pretty,” assented Joy, “but something nice to eat is much better; and they are real raisins, too, like mother used to have in England—not the sort you put in puddings, but hanging on stalks; and the almonds are a lot nicer than the nuts we get out of jam.”
“I wonder what Santa Claus will bring us this year?” said Grace.
“My sock’s not very big,” remarked Joy; “I’d like to hang up a sugar bag, only it would look greedy.”
Joy like da lot, poor child!
* * * *
Oh! you girls whose every wish has been granted, whose every fancy has been gratified, have you any thought for your poorer sisters, whose lives are so restricted, yet they are thankful for so little, and through it all are good and happy? We hope so!
The children ran off, chasing each other round the deserted holes and heaps. B.B. sat up and looked after them. Having worked as a “hatter”[A] for so many years, he had contracted the habit of voicing his thoughts. “Poor little beggars! And the old man is too proud to take a fiver!” B.B. always had gold. He was still watching the children fading in the distance, when he struck his hands together. “I’ve got it! I’ll salt his claim. He’ll never find out its Bendigo gold. He doesn’t know the game.”
[A] A gold digger who works by himself.
There is an unwritten law, strictly observed among the diggers, that no man shall go down the shaft of another, without invitation; and to do so at night during the “rushes” was carrying one’s life in one’s hand; and B.B. was aware of this.