“I should hope so,” said Laura. “I can’t imagine Hubert holding his tongue discreetly or passing by on the other side. There are a good many Levites in this part of the world, I am afraid.”
“Oh, my gracious!” said Linda, who was reading a closely-written letter; “think of this! Isn’t his name Colonel John Dacre, late of the 75th Regiment? There is one redeeming feature about the affair, at all events.”
“What can that be?” said Laura and Hubert both together.
“Why! there’s a distressed damsel in the case. If I didn’t know better, I should think Hubert must have heard about her. Listen to this!” And she read aloud:—“‘I hear that you are to have delightful neighbours. I was told that Colonel Dacre was going to settle in your neighbourhood. He has bought Wantabalree station—young Groves told me last night. He is a widower, handsome and middle-aged. But I don’t mean him. He has an only daughter, also a son. Think of that! Jane Robinson met her at Mrs. Preston’s, where she is staying. She says she is most sweet—handsome, though not objectionable in the beauty-girl line, clever, sensible, distinguished-looking, &c. Take care of Hubert, if you don’t want to lose him for good and all.’ That’s from Nellie Conway. Oh! isn’t that lovely?” and here Linda held the letter aloft, and danced for joy.
“I don’t see what difference it makes,” said Hubert, gloomily, “except that there are three people to be ruined instead of one. You girls are always thinking of marriage and giving in marriage.”
“Now don’t be provoking, Hubert,” said Laura, coaxingly; “we know somebody who is not always thinking about cattle and sheep. Now, listen to me. How long will it take for Mr. Dealerson to ruin them?”
“About three years,” said Hubert; “depends on the terms. Of course he’s got all the Colonel’s cash, but he would take long-dated bills rather than let him slip. Say three—three and a half—that’s the very outside month.”
“That means that we are to have the society and companionship of the very nice girl for three or four years,” said Laura; “we can ask her here for the last six months, you know, I really think, Hubert, it won’t turn out such a bad investment for the Colonel after all.”
“You’d better marry him out of pity,” said Hubert; “get father to endorse his bills, and that will effectually finish up the Stamford family as well—stock, lock, and barrel.”
“I’ll complete the tragedy by marrying Mr. Dealerson,” said Linda, “whom I shall afterwards poison, then come on to the stage and repent in white satin in my last agonies, having by mistake taken some out of the same glass. What a charming melodrama! Who says there are no Australian romances possible in real life?”