"I once knew a girl named Fairbrother," said George, in a playful spirit. "She was a very adorable creature, so I married her. The first time I met her was in Upper Thames Street, the last in Cannon——"
"Ah!" The lady gasped and held out her hand. "You don't mean to tell me she's married? Then you must be her husband?"
"No, I'm her grandfather," said George. "Look here, Ellen, stop this rot and talk sense. I can't stand here talking——"
"I'm not your wife," said the lady, sharply. "I've just arrived from Australia, and I'm going to visit Miss Fairbrother. We're cousins."
George opened his mouth, shut it again, and looked frightfully sheepish. Ellen's cousin! Of course, his wife had got a cousin in Australia. He had heard of her; Tops she was called—evidently a pet name. But what in the world was she doing wandering about Cannon Street alone? and what did she mean by looking so tremendously like his own wife? It was obvious, though, now that she was a young person with much more confidence than his own Ellen. But, after all, why was she here at all? What was the matter with Australia?
"I've come over post-haste," said the lady in a business-like manner. "Got a cable, and went on board next day; not even time to write."
"Anybody ill?" asked George.
His cousin-in-law laughed. "No, not so bad as that; I've had a little property left me. We soon leave Australia when there's property here, don't we?"
With an effort George joined in the laugh. Girls from Australia inheriting property was not a favourite topic with him at the moment.
Miss Fairbrother's modest boxes were placed on a four-wheeler, and the two drove off to Brunswick Terrace. On the way George heard a good deal of the childhood of his wife and of the great fun the two cousins used to have together. No doubt these anecdotes were highly humorous, but George was not in the mood for them.