“Because,” said Mr. Cathcart, “because, my dear young lady, you are an infant in the eyes of the wise old law of this country; because Mr. Collings and I stand in loco parentis to you. Now I am old enough to be your father——”
“And grandfather,” she said calmly. “But does that matter? There was a lad of sixty trying to find opportunities for squeezing my hand all the way down in the train from Bendigo. Age means nothing if your heart is young.”
“Exactly!” said Mr. Collings, whose heart was very young.
“The long and the short of it is that you can’t go,” said Mr. William Cathcart defiantly. “I do not wish to apply for an order of the court——”
“One moment, little friend of the poor,” said Diana. She threw several priceless law books and a pile of affidavits from a chair and sat down. “A few moments ago—correct me if I am wrong: I seldom am—you produced your hoary Mr. Loco Parentis to crush me to the earth. Meet Colonel Locus Standi!”
“My knowledge of legal formula is slight,” said Diana gravely. “I have lived a pure and a sheltered life amidst the rolling grass lands of Kara-Kara, but ignorant orphan though I am....”
Mr. Collings sighed.
“...I understand that before a lawyer applies to the courts he must have a client. For no lawyer, except perhaps a lawyer who has been crossed in love and is not quite sane, goes to law without a client.”
Mr. William Cathcart shrugged his shoulders.