Nobody knew it, and that was pretty nigh as good as if it wasn’t true. So we held on, and made money hand over fist. We used to go up to the hotel whenever we’d an evening to spare, but that wasn’t often. We intended to keep our money this time, and no publican was to be any the better for our hard work.

As for Kate, I couldn’t make her out. Most times she’d be that pleasant and jolly no one could help liking her. She had a way of talking to me and telling me everything that happened, because I was an old friend she said—that pretty nigh knocked me over, I tell you. Other times she was that savage and violent no one would go near her. She didn’t care who it was—servants or customers, they all gave her a wide berth when she was in her tantrums. As for old Mullockson, he used to take a drive to Sawpit Gully or Ten-Mile as soon as ever he saw what o’clock it was—and glad to clear out, too. She never dropped on to me, somehow. Perhaps she thought she’d get as good as she gave; I wasn’t over good to lead, and couldn’t be drove at the best of times. No! not by no woman that ever stepped.