One of Gertie’s letters ran:
That Mr Beecham you used to tell me so much about has come back to live at Five-Bob. He has brought his aunts back. Every one went to welcome them, and there was a great fuss. Aunt Helen says he (Mr B.) is very conservative; he has everything just as it used to be. I believe he is richer than ever. Every one is laughing about his luck. He was here twice last week, and has just left this evening. He is very quiet. I don’t know how you thought him so wonderful. I think he is too slow, I have great work to talk to him, but he is very kind, and I like him. He seems to remember you well, and often says you were a game youngster, and could ride like old Nick himself.
I wrote to the owner of Five-Bob desiring to know if what I heard concerning his good fortune was correct, and he replied by return post:
My dear little Syb,
Yes, thank goodness it is all true. The old lady left me nearly a million. It seems like a fairy yarn, and I will know how to value it more now. I would have written sooner, only you remember our bargain, and I was just waiting to get things fixed up a little, when I’m off at great tracks to claim you in the flesh, as there is no need for us to wait above a month or two now if you are agreeable. I am just run to death. It takes a bit of jigging to get things straight again, but it’s simply too good to believe to be back in the same old beat. I’ve seen Gertie a good many times, and find your descriptions of her were not at all overdrawn. I won’t send any love in this, or there would be a “bust up” in the post-office, because I’d be sure to overdo the thing, and I’d have all the officials on to me for damages. Gather up your goods and chattels, because I’ll be along in a week or two to take possession of you.
—Yr devoted
Hal.
I screwed the letter in two and dropped it into the kitchen-fire.
I knew Harold meant what he had said. He was a strong-natured man of firm determinations, and having made up his mind to marry me would never for an instant think of anything else; but I could see what he could not see himself—that he had probably tired of me, and was becoming enamoured of Gertie’s beauty.
The discordance of life smote hard upon me, and the letter I wrote was not pleasant. It ran:
To H. A. BEECHAM, Esq.,
Five-Bob Downs Station,
Gool-Gool, N.S.W.