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She took him into the back room and showed him how she meant to arrange everything.

“If you’re short of cash at the start, you’ve got to let me know. I’ll raise it somehow.”

“But I’m not short—and I won’t be. I’m going to make money.”

“What a good plucked ’un you are.”

Ann knew a sudden stab at the heart when he said that. It was the phrase Rodney had used!

“Not much pluck needed to devote yourself to money-making.”

“You’ll do it too. I don’t think Fate could ever be unkind to any one like you.”

“I’ll try to believe you’re right,” said Ann smiling at him gayly.

But in her heart she knew that he was wrong. There were other things in life besides money.

She opened the shop door for him, and stood for a moment in the entrance hall bidding him good-by. Under the iron-roofed verandas extending across the pavement, they were shaded from the hot sunshine which lay in a flood of golden light on the roadway beyond. They could see the bridge to their right, and the blue of the river. Cars and carts went by in the street; then a lumbering wool-dray; a Maori riding slowly with three sheep-dogs at his horse’s heels; on the pavement a few leisurely pedestrians strolled along. No one was ever in a hurry in this little town!

Two girls passing stared at Holmes and Ann rather curiously. Then one nodded, and Ann recognized Nell Brunton.

“Good-by,” said Holmes. “I’ll send you a line to say how things are going—but I’m not likely to have much news.”