"The dev--ahem! I mean good gracious. You must certainly belong to the family somehow or other. I dare say--yes--I am sure you must be my cousin."
"Such a strained relationship. In what degree?"
"Oh, never mind. Scotch clan relationships are so difficult to unravel. Besides, we're all brothers and sisters by the Adam and Eve theory, according to Gartney. But fancy you being a Macjean. It gives me a kind of claim on you."
"As the head of the clan, I suppose. Never! I am a free-born Australian, so hurrah for the Southern Cross and the eight hours system of labour!"
"I haven't the least idea of what you're talking about?
"Very likely. Born amid the effete civilization of a worn-out land, you have no knowledge of our glorious institutions, which render Australia the Paradise of Demos."
"Sounds like a Parliamentary speech."
"It is a Parliamentary speech," asserted Victoria, demurely, "an effort of my father's when he was elected for the Wooloomooloo constituency."
"I beg your pardon, would you mind spelling it?"
"No you would be none the wiser if I did."