"The same."
Dick stretched out his hand.
"A thousand pardons, my dear fellow; but how could I expect to see you here? And—the Honourable?"
"Ah!" said Mr. Biggs, with legitimate pride, "that knocks you, old man! It was only the Legislative Assembly when you and me was mates; it's the Legislative Council now. I'm in the Upper 'Ouse, my son!"
"I'm sure I congratulate you," said Dick.
"But 'ang the 'andle," continued the senator magnanimously; "call me Steve just the same."
"Well, it's like the whiff of the gum leaves to see you again, Steve. When did you arrive?"
"Last week. You see," confidentially, "I'm in my noo rig out—the best your London can do; though, after all, this Colony'll do as good any day in the week. I can't see where it is you do things better than we do. However, come and have a drink, old man."
In vain Dick protested that he was not thirsty; Mr. Biggs was. Besides, bushmen are not to be denied or trifled with on such points. The little man seized Dick's arm, marched him to the nearest bar, and called for beer.
"Ah!" sighed Mr. Biggs, setting down his tankard, "this is the one point where the Old Country licks us. This Colony can't come within a cooee of you with the beer, and I'm the first to own it! We kep' nothing like this at my place on the Murray, now did we?"