"What can I do for you?" he asked, addressing Fred and myself, in a tone that was intended to be excessively conciliatory.
"Before we answer that question we must ask one," Fred replied. "Were you ever an apprentice to a cordwainer in London?"
The man's face flushed scarlet, and he seemed extremely agitated at the question—but at length he replied,—
"I was an apprentice to a cordwainer, but my indentures were given up before I left England, sir."
"And your master had an only daughter, whose hand you demanded in marriage," Fred continued.
"Yes, but I meant nothing wrong; upon my word, gents, I didn't," he exclaimed, hastily, evidently considering Fred and myself in some way connected with the law, as we were under the guidance of a police officer.
"That remains to be seen," returned Fred, in a mysterious manner, evidently taking some delight in frightening the simple-minded young man all he could.
"O, I can tell you all about it," Herrets exclaimed with eagerness.
"That is unnecessary," Fred replied. "We know all, or nearly all; but what we wish to discover is, why you did not join the lady at Melbourne, as you promised in your letter?"
"Join the lady at Melbourne?" the young fellow repeated, hardly knowing what to say; "why, I wrote to her that if she would come to Australia I would pay her expenses, and marry her, besides. That was fair, wasn't it? But she didn't write me that she would come; so of course I thought that my hundred pounds were a dead loss, and that the girl had got another feller, which I don't call exactly fair; do you?"