"I shouldn't let you in for so much 'shop,' should I?" His smile was as boyish as Dick's. "But you have no idea what it means to hear Australian talk again. I haven't enjoyed anything so much for ages."
"You are very glad to be back?"
"Glad!" He gave an expressive shrug of his broad shoulders. "Well, I knew I was homesick, but I didn't know how badly until I got here."
"He has lain flat on the grass in the wildest corner of the gardens all the afternoon, looking at the gum trees," Mrs. Lester said, laughing.
"So would you, if you hadn't seen one for a year." His eyes dwelt on her tenderly. "Of course, I did see blue gums now and then; they grow them in big gardens—funny leggy things, that never look quite healthy or quite right, somehow. They let them get too tall and spindly, and then the winter gales break them to pieces. I used to preach the advantages of lopping their tops when young, but the English can't bring themselves to do it. It's good to come back and see the old things growing as they were meant to grow."
"So Australia is still good enough for you?" Mr. Warner asked.
"Quite good enough. I'll go back some day, and take my wife and Dick; I want to show them everything on the other side—and possibly then I shan't be so homesick. But we'll come back again. And I don't want to think of starting for a very long while!"
He finished with a little smile at his wife.
"You don't know the West?" Mr. Warner said.
"No—not at all. I've only passed through on my way to England."