'Well, I'll no say but what it micht mean a deal mair,' replied
McIntosh, with characteristic Scotch caution, as he followed Madame
into the house; 'it's no a verra bad sign, onyhow; I winna say but
what we micht be near the Devil's Lead.'

'And if we are?' said Madame, turning with a smile.

'Weel, mem, ye'll have mair siller nor ye'll ken what to dae wi',
an' 'tis to be hoped ye'll no be making a fool of yersel.'

Madame laughed--she was used to McIntosh's plain speaking, and it in
no wise offended her. In fact, she preferred it very much more than
being flattered, as people's blame is always genuine, their praise
rarely so. At all events she was not displeased, and looked after
him with a smile in her dark eyes as he disappeared into the back
kitchen to make himself decent for tea. Madame herself sat down in
an arm-chair in the bow window, and watched Selina preparing the
meal.

Selina Jane Sprotts, who now acted as servant to Mrs Villiers, was
rather an oddity in her way. She had been Madame's nurse, and had
followed her up to Ballarat, with the determination of never leaving
her. Selina was a spinster, as her hand had never been sought in
marriage, and her personal appearance was certainly not very
fascinating. Tall and gaunt, she was like a problem from Euclid, all
angles, and the small quantity of grey hair she possessed was
screwed into a hard lump at the back of her head. Her face was
reddish in colour, and her mouth prim and pursed up, as if she was
afraid of saying too much, which she need not have been, as she