Some half-a-hundred customers came and went. The greater number of them
were earth-stained diggers, who ran up for, it might be, a missing tool,
or a hide bucket, or a coil of rope. They spat jets of tobacco-juice,
were richly profane, paid, where coin was scarce, in gold-dust from a
match-box, and hurried back to work. But there also came old harridans--as
often as not, diggers themselves--whose language outdid that of the
males, and dirty Irish mothers; besides a couple of the white women who
inhabited the Chinese quarter. One of these was in liquor, and a great
hullabaloo took place before she could be got rid of. Put out, she stood
in front of the tent, her hair hanging down her back, cursing and
reviling. Respectable women as well did an afternoon's shopping there.
In no haste to be gone, they sat about on empty boxes or upturned
barrels exchanging confidences, while weary children plucked at their
skirts. A party of youngsters entered, the tallest of whom could just
see over the counter, and called for shandygaffs. The assistant was for
chasing them off, with hard words. But the storekeeper put, instead, a
stick of barley-sugar into each dirty, outstretched hand, and the imps
retired well content. On their heels came a digger and his lady-love to
choose a wedding-outfit; and all the gaudy finery the store held was
displayed before them. A red velvet dress flounced with satin, a pink
gauze bonnet, white satin shoes and white silk stockings met their
fancy.
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