it inconvenient to do so on his legs, he sat down to indulge his
humour freely. A laughing jackass perched on the fence at the side
of the road heard Mr Villiers' hilarity, and, being of a convivial
turn of mind itself, went off into fits of laughter also. On hearing
this echo Mr Villiers tried to get up, in order to punish the man
who mocked him, but, though his intentions were good, his legs were
unsteady, and after one or two ineffectual attempts to rise he gave
it up as a bad job. Then rolling himself a little to one side of the
dusty white road, he went sound asleep, with his head resting on a
tuft of green grass. In his white linen suit he was hardly
distinguishable in the fine white dust of the road, and though the
sun blazed hotly down on him and the mosquitos stung him, yet he
slept calmly on, and it was not till nearly four o'clock in the
afternoon that he woke up. He was more sober, but still not quite
steady, being in that disagreeable temper to which some men are
subject when suffering a recovery. Rising to his feet, with a hearty
curse, he picked up his hat and put it on; then, thrusting his hands
into his pockets, he slouched slowly along, bent upon meeting his
wife and picking a quarrel with her.

Unluckily for Madame Midas, she had that day been to Ballarat, and
was just returning. She had gone by train, and was now leaving the
station and walking home to the Pactolus along the road. Being
absorbed in thought, she did not notice the dusty figure in front of
her, otherwise she would have been sure to have recognised her
husband, and would have given him a wide berth by crossing the
fields instead of going by the road. Mr Villiers, therefore, tramped
steadily on towards the Pactolus, and his wife tramped steadily
after him, until at last, at the turn of the road where it entered
her property, she overtook him.