"So good of you to come, dear, to these far away solitudes; so kind of you, and so disinterested, for I'm sure there's nothing here to attract you in the least!"
"Oh, I think you've got a charming place! And the gentlemen have been so kind. I didn't mind the journey at all, I assure you. And, of course, I would come to keep you company, you poor, banished thing!"
Thus do these innocent creatures chatter to each other in their hypocritical fashion. But the wife just glances slyly at her husband, and he looks guiltily away at the far horizon; for the dear schemer has been making a confidant of him, for want of a better.
And Miss Ada's tail makes itself at home, after the free hospitable manner of the bush. And the men are received with greater unction than ever on the part of their hostess; albeit they profess to have called casually, on some mysterious business or other with her husband. And they are housed for the night, at least, and to each of them separately the good little woman finds an opportunity of saying—
"Isn't she a sweet, pretty girl? And such a capital manager, I do assure you. Be sure you come up on Sundays, and every other day you can spare, while she is with us. It will be so dull for her, you know, coming from all the gaieties of the city!"
Rumour flies about the country, apprising it of the fact that a young lady visitor is stopping at So-and-so's. The district incontinently throws itself at her feet, and worships Beauty in her person. Each of the few married ladies round invites the stranger to come and stop with her, after a bit, and to lighten her heavy load of solitude, and her craving for a companion of her own sex. And Miss Ada finds it impossible to refuse these invitations; and so the district entraps her, and keeps her in it.
What wonder that when she does return to the city, it is only to make ready for an impending event; for she was really obliged to take pity on one of those poor bachelors, you understand. And the bush is so charming! And she will be near her dear friend! And so—it comes about that there will be one "husband-hunter" the less.
One season there had been an entire dearth of lady visitors. In our shanty people were going melancholy mad. The district was losing its charm for us. We had not set eyes upon any young lady of flirtable estate for months and months. Old Colonial and the Saint had taken to making their cattle-hunting expeditions invariably lead them to Tanoa; where they said they went to talk to Mihake about stock, but where, it was remembered, too, pretty Rakope and her sisters dwelt. O'Gaygun's conversation was burdened with constant reference to "purty gurls," whom he had seen in former days; and he became so violently attentive to the wife of one of our neighbours, that, we began to think he would have to be seriously expostulated with. Dandy Jack was restless, betraying less interest than usual in his personal appearance, and talking of going to Auckland for a spell. All of us were getting gloomy and dispirited. Our life didn't seem to be so glorious a one as usual. But relief came at last.
One Saturday, the Fiend had been over to the township, taking our weekly consignment of butter, and bringing back such news as there was, and such stores as we required. He returned with intelligence that set our shanty in a ferment. A young lady had come up from Auckland on a visit!
The Fiend had found a note at the township, left there for our community generally. It was from the wife of a settler whom we speak of as the Member. She informed us that her friend. Miss —— Fairweather, let it be, was on a visit to her; and she invited us to go there on Sunday, the next day, and whenever else we could. The epistle concluded with some adroit reference to the charms and graces of her guest, conveyed in that vague and curiosity-exciting manner so peculiarly feminine.