"Well, sir, what were you sent out for?"
This was a colonial little joke at the "Establishment" identity's expense. But unfortunately it hit Jack too. He had been sent gut, really, because he was too tiresome to keep at home. Too fond of "low" company. Too often a frequenter of the stables. Too indifferent to the higher claims of society. They feared a waster in the bud. So they shipped the bud to the antipodes, to let it blossom there upside down.
But Jack was not going to give himself away.
"To go on the land, sir," he replied. Which was true.—But what had his father said in the letter? He flushed and looked angry, his dark blue eyes going very dark, "I was expelled from school," he added calmly. "And I was sent down from the Agricultural College. That's why I have come out a year before my time. But I was coming—to go on the land—anyway—"
He ended in a stammer. He rather hated adults: he definitely hated them in tribunal.
Mr. George held up his hand deprecatingly.
"Say nothing! Say nothing! Your father made no mention of anything. Tell us when you know us, if y'like. But you aren't called on to indict yourself.—That was a silly joke of mine. Forget it.—You came to go on the land, as your father informs me.—I knew your father, long before you were born. But I knew your mother better."
"So did I," said Mr. Swallow. "And grieved the day that ever a military gentleman carried her away from Western Australia. She was one of our home-grown flowers, was Katie Reid, and I never saw a Rose of England that could touch her."
Jack now flushed deeper than ever.
"Though," said Mr. George slyly, "if you've got a prank up y'r sleeve, that you can tell us about—come on with it, my son. We've none of us forgotten being shipped to England for a schooling."