“So am I—awful. But in the goodness of my heart I just looked in to bring you the news. The fellow told me his name was Tom Lessing, of Lessing’s Creek Farm, Douglas River, Australia. Pretty wide address. He asked for Jim, and said Jim would be sure to see him, so I sent him along to the smithy. But first, as I didn’t want to miss a chance, I inquired if he had happened to meet Mr. Walter Keith—thinking that he would have run across Cousin Walter as likely as not. But he hadn’t.”
“That was remarkable. Australia, as you observed, is a wide address.”
“Well, there was no harm in asking. I hope Jim will invite Tom Lessing, of Lessing’s Creek Farm, to dinner. I’d love to hear a backwoodsman talk. I’d love to go to Australia. Isn’t it odd of Jim not to long to be a colonist? He says he wouldn’t like it a bit.”
“Cousin Walter hasn’t particularly enjoyed being a colonist, Master Adventurous.”
“Oh, that’s because he didn’t learn a trade before he went, and because he didn’t understand sheep-farming, and because he’s a bit of a duffer all round! Now, Jim’s got a kernel in his nut—”
“Austin!”
“Well, brains in his cranium, then. I’m off to peep in on Tom Lessing, of Lessing’s Creek Farm.”
“No, dear, don’t. Perhaps he and Jim are old friends.”
“Yes, they are. He said so. He said a jolly lot in two minutes, I can tell you.”
“Then I wouldn’t pry, Austin. They may have a great deal to tell each other.”