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23rd October.

"Mrs. Dale is a person not without pretensions. In other words 'she thinks a deal of herself,' and her great object always appears to be to make other people of the same opinion. She would like to pose before polite society, not as a reigning belle, for she is quite passée, not as my Lady Bountiful, for she is not charitably inclined; not even as a fashionable personage, for she has not the means to keep up any great style; but as une femme supérienre. In that she resembles her maid, only, of course, ever so many steps higher up the social ladder.

"I overheard an exchange of sentiments once between the cook and Susy Wanekin, on the latter's début here. Quoth the cook, 'What are your accomplishments, Miss Wanekin?' Said Susy, 'I am not very musical; I never would be bothered with learning the pie-a-ner; I pride myself more on my conversational powers.'

"Mrs. Dale began life humbly. In her youth she was poor and dependent. She may have been pretty, but neither her good looks or her shining capabilities would appear to have attracted attention, or to have gained her a suitor. She saw a little of the world, and picked up some smattering of society knowledge while following in the train of a fashionable patroness. page 371Accomplishments she has none, which is quite sufficient to impress people. She emigrated to New Zealand at the nick of time, and was rewarded for her venture by marrying Mr. Dale, who was then verging on 'the sere and yellow,' but who was thought to be rich. Unfortunately, even in that happy moment, by a strange irony of Fate, she found herself transported into a region which, whatever its other advantages may be, is perfectly uncongenial for the expansion of fine-ladyism. What is the use of distinguished attainments where they cannot be shown off, fashionable clothes in the bush, or polite airs among barbarians? Mrs. Dale has always realised her mission—it was to shine; but cruel fortune has destined her to a sphere which no display of brilliancy could illumine. She had triumphed, after so many disappointments, but only to bloom in the desert. This makes her rage.

"But love of admiration is too strong a passion to be stifled, even under the most untoward circumstances. "It must find an outlet somewhere, even on a sheep station. Mrs. Dale is determined to be conspicuous somehow, and she much prefers being hated to the ignominy of being unnoticed.

"Where she cannot fascinate or intimidate, her page 372last resource is to worry, and in this respect she is universally allowed to excel. Her capabilities for interference, and her powers of annoyance, are indeed quite exceptional. Having no family to rear or household duties to attend to, being almost denied the greatest of female consolations, gossiping, she has to confine her active energies to petty vexatiousness.

"But although the range is so restricted, it has afforded her the longed-for opportunity of becoming notorious, as the most talked-about and cordially disliked woman in the country; and thus the 'ruling passion' has found its vent.

"The other day she had a mishap, which has been a source of great merriment to the men, and of which a highly-embellished report has travelled far and wide. As I was an eye-witness of the scene, however, my account is necessarily strictly veracious.

"It happened only a few days ago. Madame, arrayed in state, was going one of her usual rounds. She takes great interest in animals, and has her pets among the horses and cattle, which she dubs with high-sounding names, cribbed from Sir Walter Scott's novels or other elegant sources. Having inspected the fowl yard, counted her chickens, collected the eggs (which she has placed under lock and key), examined the dairy, to make sure that none of the milk had page 373been misapplied to any vile use, such as flavouring the men's tea—for Mrs. Dale would sooner see the eggs rotted and the milk turned sour than to allow those little luxuries to be introduced into the kitchen—she visited the stable and ordered the Lady Rowena out for an airing. She continued to spy into many places, and to make sneering remarks about what she saw, which she knew would be repeated to those concerned and cause unpleasantness.

"She then turned her stately steps towards the paddock, where a number of young cattle were grazing. Norman had been escorting her so far (being the young gentleman in attendance that morning) but knowing his intense dislike to gardening, she could not resist the gratification of setting him to weed a bed of tomatoes. 'There, my dear boy,' she exclaimed, 'there's two hours' work for you. I hope you will do it nicely, for I take a great pride in my tomato beds, and you may just as well make yourself useful. You must do something for your keep, you know' Norman's face flushed to the colour of the ruby fruit at his feet, but he went sulkily to work.

"Mrs. Dale then turned her distinguished attention to a mob of young heifers. The first one, an ugly, shaggy, restive-looking brute, she accosted with much suavity.

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"'Oh! my pretty little Lydia; it is you, is it? Don't I recognise those pretty auburn curls, and your high-bred air. Come to me, my pet.' Lydia only responded with a toss of the head, and turned away. 'Oh, you cross little thing! how dare you turn your back on your mistress? I shall make you come to me.' Lydia gave a snort, and made show to bunt. 'Oh, you naughty, nasty, rude thing! how dare you, miss?' Lydia bunted. 'Fi donc, Mademoiselle; get away, you little wretch! Off, I say!' and the lady made play with her riding-whip. Lydia made play with her head.

"Mrs. Dale began a hasty retreat, trying to ward off the bunting heifer with words and cuts. Then she called out for assistance; but Norman was too intent on weeding tomato beds to heed her cries, and two of the station hands, who were standing close by, only bobbed their heads behind a hedge, and were deaf to the most heartrending appeals.

"I happened to be near, and I advanced to the rescue, as fast as I could without undignified hurry.

"Meanwhile Lydia was thoroughly roused, and the whipping made her downright vicious. She came at her mistress full tilt, and with a well-directed bump, planted just below the middle, sent Mrs. D. sprawling backwards her full length on the ground. And as her head went down, her feet tipped up.

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"The sight of the lady's scarlet underclothing must have further excited the animal's fury, for it was just about to charge into the breach, when I stepped forward and drove it off. Mrs. Dale struggled to her feet, blushing as red as her petticoats, and without a word of thanks to her rescuer, she fled. I followed her with a broken whip, a huge chignon which was left on the battle-field, and a padded article of attire, which had burst its strings and had dropped from her in the tumble.

"I don't think she will ever forgive me."