“You don’t know papa,” said Maud. “He will only laugh. Now will you promise?”
“I am sure I am much obliged to you. I wish I could buy you a present. Perhaps I may be able to some time.”
“There, don’t say anything more about it. What a lot of carriages there are in the street!—almost as many as in London.”
The street, in fact, was lively with a continued line of cabs, drays, and vehicles of various kinds, presenting a spectacle more animated than might be expected of a city of the size. But Melbourne, though at this time it contained but a hundred thousand inhabitants, had a very large foreign trade with the principal ports not only of Europe but of the United States. This had been largely increased by the gold discoveries,—those who were lucky at the mines being prodigal in their purchases of articles of luxury as well as necessity. Then there was a large export trade in wool, hides, and country produce from the interior, especially in the two former, for Australia is a great grazing country.
“I wonder what building that is!” said Harry, soon afterwards.
He pointed to a very handsome structure in the Italian style, on the corner of Bourke and Elizabeth Streets. It was adorned with sculptures, and looked new. In fact, it had just been opened to the public.
“That,” said a gentleman, who overheard him, “is our new post-office.”
“That reminds me,” said Harry, “I must write home to-night, to let my mother know where I am.”
In fact, Harry did write that same evening, and gave the letter to a servant at the hotel to post. The latter carelessly lost the letter, and then, being afraid of blame, falsely assured Harry that he had posted it. So the fates were once more against Mrs. Raymond, and the missive which would have cheered her heart got swept into a waste-basket, and was consumed with other papers of no value.