Cicely, a pretty, delicate-looking girl, laughed merrily.
"They do not hold dresses, Kate. No, I have not thought to lead a gay life on a sheep station in Australia. What I have brought is something that I could not bear to leave behind. Those trunks contain all the silver I used to use in my English home."
"Silver! What kind of silver?"
"Teapots, cream ewers, épergnes, candlesticks, to say nothing of the spoons, forks, fish-knives, etc.," said Cicely gaily.
"You've brought all those things with you here?" cried Kate, horrified. "Oh, aunt, where can I put them all for safety?"
Mrs. Grieves looked nonplussed. "I suppose you have some iron safes——" she began.
"But not big enough to store that quantity of silver!"
Kate spent a restless night. Visions of bushrangers stood between her and sleep. What would she do with that silver?
"Bank it," suggested Phil Wentworth the next morning, as she explained her difficulty to him in the little counting-house after breakfast.
Kate shook her head. "Aunt wouldn't do it. If she did she might as well have banked it in England."