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Updated: June 9, 2025
Ocock, you need a woman about your place, to make it a bit more homelike," said Mahony, calling to mind the pigstye in which Ocock and his sons housed. "Course I do!" agreed Ocock. "And Melia, she'll come out to 'er daddy soon as ever th'ol' woman kicks the bucket. Drat 'er! It's 'er I've got to thank for all the mischief." "Well, well!" said Mahony, and rising knocked out his pipe on the log.
By this time "Porepunkahs" had passed their previous limit, and even paid a bonus: it was now an open secret that a drive undertaken in an opposite direction to the first had proved successful; the lead was scored and seamed with gold. Ocock spoke of the stone, specimens of which he had held in his hand declared he had never seen its equal.
And then, in a postscript: MR. SMITH WAS HERE LAST SUNDAY. I AM TO SAY MRS. BEAMISH WOULD BE VERY PLEASED IF YOU ALSO WOULD CALL AGAIN TO SEE US. He ran the flag up to the top of his forty-foot staff and wrote: But Polly was not to be drawn. Some days previously Mahony had addressed a question to, Henry Ocock. With this third letter from Polly, he held the lawyer's answer in his hand.
The interview at an end, Ocock mentioned, in his frigidly urbane way, that he had recently been informed there was an excellent opening for a firm of solicitors in Ballarat: could Mr. Mahony, as a resident, confirm the report? Mahony regretted his ignorance, but spoke in praise of the Golden City and its assured future. "This would be most welcome news to your father, sir.
Ocock, as he munched with the relish of a Jerry or a Ned. He held his slice of cake in the hollow of one great palm, conveying with extreme care the pieces he broke off to his mouth. "You must come and see us, as soon as ever we're settled." "Bless you! You'll soon find grander friends than an old chap like me." "Mr. Ocock! And you with three sons in the law!"
M., and I b'lieve she topped the poll. By Jove! that blue gown makes 'em look just like ... what shall I say? ... like marble." "Does fortune smile?" asked Mahony of Henry Ocock as he passed the card-players: he had cut Urquhart short with a nod. "So his Excellency didn't turn up, after all?" "Sent a telegraphic communication at the last moment. No, I haven't seen her.
His search for Johnny Ocock had detained him in Melbourne for over a week. Under the guidance of young Grindle he had scoured the city, not omitting even the dens of infamy in the Chinese quarter; and he did not know which to be more saddened by: the revolting sights he saw, or his guide's proud familiarity with every shade of vice.
Ocock was one of the busiest of men nowadays he no longer needed to invent sham clients and fictitious interviews and he utilised the few odd minutes it took to procure a signature, jot down a note, open a drawer, unlock a tin box to remark abstractedly on the weather and put a polite inquiry: "And your good lady? In the best of health, I trust?"
No one with a few hundreds to spare could find a better investment. Now is the time to buy." A few hundreds! ... what does he take me for? thought Mahony; and declined the transaction off-hand. It was very good of Mr. Ocock to think of him; but he preferred to keep clear of that kind of thing.
While he was laid up, the eternal question of how to live on his income had left him, relatively speaking, in peace. He had of late adopted the habit of doing his scraping and saving at the outset of each quarter, so as to get the money due to Ocock put by betimes. His illness had naturally made a hole in this; and now the living from hand to mouth must begin anew.
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