CHAPTER VI.

NANCY'S Own house was ready for her to move into, and some of the furniture had been bought at the Wooroona stores, and some was on its way from Melbourne. The mayor owned the house—a charming six-roomed weather-board cottage, with bow-windows, creepers, and a garden round itand had let it to the young couple at two-thirds its previous rent, "in consideration of Mr. Primrose being a clergyman," he said, but "in consideration of Mrs. Primrose being the clergyman's wife," every one else said; and he had papered every room for them, put up cupboards, stained floors, built a bath-room, and otherwise consulted the convenience of his tenants regardless of expense, and in defiance of those cherished business principles whereby he had made his fortune. Nancy called him "an old dear," and smiled on him in a manner to rouse the ire of Mrs. Mayor, who had been told-had heard, indeed, from many quarters -that the curate's wife was a brazen hussy and a

minx. But nothing was further from Nancy's thoughts, at present, than the idea that she, who had been so warmly welcomed to Wooroona, had come to be widely regarded as the enemy of its domestic peace. She wrote home to her sisters that she had never liked the Wooroona "people" so well as now, forgetting that "people is male and female, by the rules of English grammar.

The one sex to which she applied the term and her words of praise saw an opportunity to serve her, and took full advantage of it during the days when she was moving into her house. The curate was not only useless as a mechanic, but absorbed in the business of the parish, which demanded all his time and strength; and it was not to be supposed that Mrs. Primrose could be permitted to haul tables and chairs unassisted. Therefore, the men of the town flew to her support, and she availed herself of their services freely and with a charming gratitude.

Dr. Lloyd was the first. He had seen his morning patients at home, and was setting forth in his buggy on a round of visits, when, passing the fascinating cottage, he observed a loaded dray at the gate, and Nancy standing bareheaded in the roadway, wearing a big white apron, and sleeves rolled

to the elbow-an enchanting figure in that housewifely garb! Naturally, he pulled up.

"Good-morning, Mrs. Primrose. What, moving in at last? Oh, allow me." He sprang to the ground in time to prevent her from receiving a straw-swathed music-stool into her uplifted

arms.

"What's your husband after, to allow you to be doing this sort of thing?"

"He's after baptisms, or weddings, or something or other. To tell the truth, I'm just as glad that he's out of the way. This sort of thing worries him. He wants to be helping, and he hinders all the time. Oh, I can get on quite well, thank you; don't you bother. Mr. Mackenzie sent down the station carpenter from Darriwell, but I hadn't anything for him to do-the things had not come. then and I sent him back again. I've got an old charwoman helping me. She's cleaning things in the kitchen. Please don't waste your precious time."

But Dr. Lloyd wasted a whole hour of it, regardless of the patients who were nervously listening for his knock, while his groom walked his horse up and down the road in the hot sun. He superintended the unloading of the dray, which had brought the Melbourne purchases, and shared Nancy's anxiety to see that nothing had been in

jured. They muddled ́and messed about together, indifferent to the flight of time, stripping off straw and sacking in the hall, rubbing and dusting and admiring the various articles, and wheeling them from place to place to see where they looked best, until suddenly Nancy exclaimed, "Oh, you poor fellow, how hot you are!" and flew off to mix the sweetest shandygaff that Dr. Lloyd had ever tasted in his life.

He was draining the delicious tumbler, with a little toast to her health and prosperity in her new house, and a little misgiving as to his neglected work, when Mr. Hardcastle appeared through the open doors, with concern on his face.

"O Mrs. Primrose, forgive me for intruding; but I saw the doctor's buggy here, and I was so afraid you were ill—”

"Come in, Mr. Hardcastle, and sit down, if you can find a place to sit on. Here's my new Chesterfield sofa-isn't it a duck? Sit here, and feel how soft it is. Oh, no, nobody is ill; Dr Lloyd was just passing, and stopped to help me

for a few minutes."

"I'm going now," said Dr. Lloyd, looking at his watch. "By Jove! I must, indeed; it's twelve o'clock."

He had been helping Mrs. Primrose not for a

few minutes, but for an hour. Hastily he flicked some straws from his smart coat; seeing which, Nancy fetched a a clothes - brush, and daintily brushed him down,(while he stood, fatuously smiling, like a cat being stroked.)

Yes, you go you go." urged the old police magistrate. "A doctor's time is not his own; patients must be attended to. I hear old Abbott had a bad turn last night, Lloyd. Get on with your work, my dear fellow. I'll help Mrs. Primrose, if she'll allow me that privilege.—I'm not as young as he is, Mrs. Primrose, but I'm sure you'll find me quite as useful."

"Oh, you are too good!" said Nancy-"both of you."

So the handsome doctor departed, and Mr. Hardcastle took hammer and nails and proceeded to fasten brackets and cabinets to the drawingroom wall, while Mrs. Primrose, carrying armfuls of books and ornaments to and fro, encouraged him with suggestions and thanks. He was an old man, but he was sprightly, and she found him an excellent coadjutor. In fact, she told him she didn't know what she should have done without him.

At half past twelve another hairy face appeared, diffidently peering through an open win