At the first of the three houses the rider had dismounted, and knocked at the door with the butt of her whip. After a word with the woman who opened, she threw her riding-skirt over one arm, put the other through the bridle, and was now making straight for them.
As she drew near she smiled, showing a row of white teeth. "Does Dr. Mahony live here?"
Misfortune of misfortunes!—Richard was out.
But almost instantly Polly grasped that this would tell in his favour. "He won't be long, I know."
"I wonder," said the lady, "if he would come out to my house when he gets back? I am Mrs Glendinning—of Dandaloo."
Polly flushed, with sheer satisfaction: Dandaloo was one of the largest stations in the neighbourhood of Ballarat. "Oh, I'm certain he will," she answered quickly.
"I am so glad you think so," said Mrs. Glendinning. "A mutual friend, Mr. Henry Ocock, tells me how clever he is."
Polly's brain leapt at the connection; on the occasion of Richard's last visit the lawyer had again repeated the promise to put a patient in his way. Ocock was one of those people, said Richard, who only remembered your existence when he saw you.—Oh, what a blessing in disguise had been that troublesome old land sale!
The lady had stooped to Trotty, whom she was trying to coax from her lurking-place. "What a darling! How I envy you!"
"Have you no children?" Polly asked shyly, when Trotty's relationship had been explained.