"Magnetic Villa" was one of the "best" houses in the rising city of Townsville. It stood on the red, rocky, and treeless side of Melton Hill, overlooked the waters of Cleveland Bay, and faced the rather picturesque-looking island from whence it derived its name.

About ten months after the resurrection of the "Ever Victorious" and the concomitant reawakening to life of c.h.i.n.kie's Flat, three ladies arrived by steamer from Sydney to take possession of the villa--then untenanted.

In a few hours it was generally known that the newcomers were Mrs.

Trappeme, Miss Trappeme, and Miss Lilla Trappeme. There was also a Master Trappeme, a lanky, ill-looking, spotted-faced youth of fourteen, in exceedingly new and badly-fitting clothes much too large for him. By his mother and sisters he was addressed as "Mordaunt," though until a year or so previously his name had been Jimmy.

A few weeks after the ladies had installed themselves in the villa there appeared a special advertis.e.m.e.nt in the Townsville _Champion_ (over the leader) informing the public that "Mrs. Lee-Trappeme is prepared to receive a limited number of paying guests at 'Magnetic Villa.' Elegant appointments, superior _cuisine_, and that comfort and hospitality which can Only be obtained in a Highly-refined Family Circle."

"Hallo!" said Mallard, the editor of the _Champion_, to Flynn, his sub, who called his attention to the advertis.e.m.e.nt, "so 'Magnetic Villa'

is turned into a hash house, eh? Wonder who they are? 'Highly refined family circle'--sounds fishy, doesn't it? Do you know anything about them?"

"No, but old Maclean, the Melbourne drummer who came up in the _Barcoo_ from Sydney with them, does--at least he knew the old man, who died about a year and a half ago."

"What was he?"

"Bank messenger in Sydney at thirty bob a week; used to lend money to the clerks at high interest, and did very well; for when he pegged out he left the old woman a couple of thousand. His name was Trappem--John Trappem, but he was better known as 'Old Jack Trap.' When they came on board the _Barcoo_ they put on no end of side, and they were 'Mrs., the Misses, and Master Lee-Trappeme.'"

"Lord! what a joke! Did the drummer give the show away on board?"

"No, for a wonder. But he told me of it."

"Daughters good looking?"

"Younger one is not too bad; elder's a terror--thin, bony, long face, long nose, long feet, long conceit of herself, and pretty long age, walks mincingly, like a hen on a hot griddle, and------"

"Oh, stop it! The old woman?"

"Fat, ruddy-faced, pleasant-looking, white hair, talks of her 'poor _papaless_ girls,' &c. She's a pushing old geyser, however, and has already got the parsons and some of the other local n.o.bility to call on her."

"Wonder what sort of tucker they'd give one, Flynn? I'm tired of paying 6 a week at the beastly overcrowded dog-kennel, ent.i.tled the 'Royal'

Hotel--save the mark!--and I'm game even to try a boarding-house, but,"

and here he rubbed his chin, "this 'refined family circle' business, you know?"

"They all say that," remarked the sub. "You couldn't expect 'em to tell the truth and say, 'In Paradise Mansions Mrs. de Jones feeds her boarders on anything cheap and nasty; the toilet jugs have no handles, and the floors are as dirty as the kitchen slave, who does the cooking and waits at table, and the family generally are objectionable in their manners and appearance.'"

"Are you game to come with me this afternoon and inspect 'Magnetic Villa' and the 'refined family circle'?"

"Yes. And, by Jove! if you take up your quarters there, I will do so as well. We could try it, anyway. I'm batching with Battray, the police inspector, and three other fellows. It was only going to cost us 3 a week each; it costs us more like 6."

"Of course, too much liquor, and all that," said the editor of the _Champion_, with a merry twinkle in his eye.

Scarcely had the sub-editor left when a knock announced another visitor, and Grainger, booted and spurred, entered the room.

Mallard jumped from his chair and shook hands warmly with him. "This is a surprise, Grainger. When did you get to town?"

"About an hour ago. Myra is with me; her six months' visit has come to an end, and my mother and my elder sister want her back again; so she is leaving in the next steamer. But all the hotels are packed full, and as the steamer does not leave for a week, I don't know how to manage.

That's why I came to see you, thinking you might know of some place where we could put up for a week."

"I shall be only too delighted to do all I can. The town is very full of people just now, and the hotels are perfect pandemoniums, what with c.h.i.n.kie's Flat, the rush to the Haughton, Black Gully, and other places Townsville is off its head with bibulous prosperity, and lodgings of any kind fit for a lady are un.o.btainable. Ah, stop! I've forgotten something. I do know of a place which might suit Miss Grainger very well. Where is she now?"

"In the alleged sitting-room at the 'Queen's.' I gave the head waiter a sovereign to let her have it to herself for a couple of hours whilst I went out and saw what I could do."

Then Mallard told Grainger of "Magnetic Villa."

"Let us go and see this refined family," he said with a laugh. "I don't know them, but from what my sub tells me, I daresay Miss Grainger could manage with them for a week. I know the house, which has two advantages: it is large, and is away from this noisy, dirty, dusty, and sinful town."

"Very well," said Grainger as he took out his pipe, "will three o'clock suit? My sister might come."

"Of course. Now tell me about c.h.i.n.kie's Flat. Any fresh news?"

"Nothing fresh; same old thing."

"'Same old thing!'" and Mallard spread out his arms yearningly and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. "Just listen to the man, O ye G.o.ds!

'The same old thing!' That means you are making a fortune hand over fist, you and Jimmy Ah San."

"We are certainly making a lot of money, Mallard," replied Grainger quietly, as he lit his pipe and crossed his strong, sun-tanned hands over his knee. "My own whack, so far, out of c.h.i.n.kie's Flat, has come to more than 16,000."

"Don't say 'whack,' Grainger; it's vulgar. Say 'My own emolument, derived in less than one year from the auriferous wealth of c.h.i.n.kie's Flat, amounts to 16,000.' You'll be going to London soon, and floating the property for a million, and--"

Grainger, who knew the man well, and had a sincere liking and respect for him, laughed again, though his face flushed. "You know me better than that, Mallard; I'm not the man to do that sort of thing. I could float the concern and make perhaps a hundred thousand or so out of it if I was blackguard enough to do it. But, thank G.o.d, I've never done anything dirty in my life, and never will."

"Don't mind my idiotic attempt at a joke, Grainger," and Mallard pat ont his hand. "I know you are the straightest man that ever lived. But I did really think that you would be going off to England soon, and that we--I mean the other real friends beside myself you have made in this G.o.d-forsaken colony--would know you no more except by reading of your 'movements' in London."

"No, Mallard, Australia is my home. I know nothing of England, for I left there when I was a child. As I told you, my poor father was one of the biggest sheep men in Victoria, and died soon after the bank foreclosed on him. The old station, which he named 'Melinda Downs,'

after my mother, who has the good old-fashioned name of Melinda, has gone through a lot of vicissitudes since then; but a few weeks ago my agent in Sydney bought it for 10,000, and now my mother and sisters are going back there."

"And yourself?"

"Oh, a year or two more--perhaps three or four; and then, when c.h.i.n.kie's Flat is worked out, I too, will go south to the old home."

Mallard sighed, and then, taking a cigar, lit it, and the two men smoked together in silence for a few minutes.

"Mallard!"

"Yes, old man."

"This continual newspaper grind is pretty tough, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. But thanks to you--by putting me on to the 'Day Dawn' Reef at c.h.i.n.kie's Flat--I've made a thousand or two and can chuck it at any time."

"Don't say 'chuck.' It's vulgar; and the editor of the 'leading journal in North Queensland' must not be vulgar," and he smiled.

"Ah, Grainger my boy, you have been a good friend to me!"

"It's the other way about, Mallard. You were the only man in the whole colony of Queensland who stood to me when I began to employ Chinese labour. That ruffian, Peter Finnerty, said in the House, only two months ago, that I deserved to be shot."

"Well, you stuck to your guns, and I to mine. Fortunately the _Champion_ is my own 'rag,' and not owned by a company. I stuck to you as a matter of principle."

"And lost heavily by it."