Mr. Polyblock (discovered walking up and down the library). Well, I don't know as ever I spent a more miserable month. Dulcie don't take no interest in the things as used to amuse her. I don't know what's come to the gal. If I could see my way at all, and thought this young chap was steady and sensible—likely to get on—I might push him; but—a free selector—a half-section, crawling duffer as won't have grass for a milker nor credit for a bag of flour in another year—No! I couldn't think of it. It's enough to make a man turn agin his own flesh and blood. (Knocking heard.) Who's that?
Maid. A gentleman wants to see you, sir.
Mr. Polyblock. Who is it? That chap as was going to buy the Weejoglag store-cattle, p'raps?
Enter Cecil Egremont, dressed in tweeds.
Mr. Polyblock. Oh, it's you, Mr. Eggermont! (Aside—How well the feller looks! Holds up his head too! Dashed if he ain't a fine, upstanding, good-looking chap when he's turned out decent! He looked more like a shearer when I seen him last.) Well, sir! what can I do for you? Sheep been trespassing, I suppose?
Egremont. No, Mr. Polyblock, such is not the case. Nor will it matter to me in future. I have sold my land.
Mr. Polyblock. Sold the s'lection! You don't say so! Who to? who to? Mr. Eggermont, why didn't you come to me, if you wanted to part with it? I'd have given you anything in reason.
Egremont. You must pardon me for reminding you, Mr. Polyblock, that your manner was not reassuring at our last interview.
Mr. Polyblock. Perhaps not—rather hasty, I know. Mustn't mind an old man; but who's got the s'lection?
Egremont. I disposed of it to Mr. Allround in the township, from whom I received a cheque, paying me in full for all improvements and loss of time.