"I'm talking because I'm the only one here with any ideas of conversation. You are all sitting like a crowd at a wake before the whisky is passed round."
"You give everybody a racking headache."
"I'm very sorry. I don't know why, but there it is, I never get headaches."
"Nothing would ever kill you."
"You needn't be so annoyed about it. As a matter of fact I've not been at all well these last few months; only, unlike other people, I make no fuss about it. I've a thundering good mind to see a doctor to-morrow. I jolly well will."
Great matters followed on that little upset. The rocky state of his health came as a thunderbolt to Selwyn. His medical man said an entire change of scene and climate was absolutely needful. What better place than Surprise where every worry could be put behind? With a fishing-rod and a gun-case in the baggage a man should be good for a six-month's stay. Mrs. Selwyn began with a stout refusal. She knew as well as she was alive the affair would end disastrously. She had a presentiment some calamity was waiting. She could foresee with her capable brain how unfitted Hilton was for the whole business. Her heart was in her mouth at the mere thought of the journey. And look at the expense. "Think of my purse!" she cried. "Think of my pocket!" Finally she fell into agreement, so as to be at hand to say "I told you so."
Thus it came about that a fiery November afternoon found the Selwyns covering the last mile of the journey. The back of the coach was a-choke with wares. The mail bags shared the bottom with the Selwyn luggage, and a round dozen of other parcels held the hopes of as many women at Surprise. Mrs. Niven, Mrs. Bloxham, Mrs. Anybody-else-you-please, lured by a catalogue, had summoned them in a halting hand weeks before, and had spent spare time counting up the days to their coming. On top of this bundle of wares, in no ways a bed of their choosing, were chained Selwyn's proved bodyguard, the sharers of his board, almost the sharers of his bed. They were a mangy pointer of great age, and a terrier with a punishing jaw. The pointer had fallen into a miserable doze; but the terrier yet nursed hope of sudden calamity, and kept a quarrelsome eye at half-cock.
With a crack of the whip, a spurt from the goose-rumped horses, and a stir among the waiting congregation, the coach rolled to a standstill before Surprise Valley Hotel. Such was the manner of the Selywn coming.
. . . . . . .
That evening it wanted half-an-hour to the rise of the moon when Power left Neville's verandah for his horse and the journey home. The lights were going out over all the camp. Maud followed at his side for a good-bye. The old man fussed after them as far as the back door.