squatters are the aristocracy of Australia, and rural postmasters are not
always considered eligible for a dinner-party at Government House; but
when Louis Bachelor came forward to meet his visitor the young fellow's
fingers quickly caught his hat from his head, and an off-hand greeting
became a respectful salute.

At first the young man was awed by the presence of the grizzled
gentleman, and he struggled with his language to bring it up to the
classic level of the old meteorologist's speech. Before they had spoken
a dozen words John Osgood said to himself: "What a quaint team he and the
Maid of Honour would make! It's the same kind of thing in both, with the
difference of sex and circumstance." The nature of his visitor's
business pleased the old man, and infused his courtesy with warmth. Yes,
he would go to Wandenong with pleasure; the Government had communicated
with him about it; a substitute had been offered; he was quite willing to
take his first leave in four years; astronomy was a great subject, he had
a very good and obedient telescope of his own, though not nearly so large
as that at Wandenong; he would telegraph at once to Brisbane for the
substitute to be sent on the following day, and would be ready to start
in twenty-four hours. After visiting Wandenong he would go to Brisbane
for some scientific necessaries--and so on through smooth parentheses of
talk. Under all the bluntness of the Bush young Osgood had a refinement
which now found expression in an attempt to make himself agreeable--not a
difficult task, since, thanks to his father's tastes and a year or two at
college, he had a smattering of physical science. He soon won his way to
the old man's heart, and to his laboratory, which had been developed
through years of patience and ingenious toil in this desolate spot.

Left alone that evening in Louis Bachelor's sitting-room, John Osgood's
eyes were caught by a portrait on the wall, the likeness of a beautiful