"Thank goodness, that's over," said Reg, when they had safely put themselves in a hansom. "Talk about London porters. They are not a patch on these fellows for banging your things about."
"That's true. In Melbourne, old man, everything must go with a rush," answered Hal, as the cab pulled up at the entrance to a tremendous building, some eight stories high.
"Fine place this, Hal."
"Yes, as far as appearances go. It's run on temperance principles, at a heavy loss every year."
"Who built it then?"
"There's his face on the wall there, somewhere. He's in gaol now, went with the land-boom when it bust."
"That's why they put his bust up," laughed Reg, dodging the portmanteau that was flung at him for his atrocious pun.
They booked their rooms on the advance system at the office, and started for a stroll round the streets of this marvellous city.
"By Jove, Hal," said Reg, pointing to a tall building known as a sky-scraper; "thirteen stories high. Is the man who built that doing a term too?"
"No he was too smart. He sold out and got knighted."