Her companion made as though to speak. But the girl went on:
"Now, look here, Mr. Jones, I'll lay an even bet with you that they'll ride, jump and slice the lemon better than any of your troops in Cairo. They're practical people, not dreamers who worry about etiquette and the fine points. Now just you take a good look at their faces. You'll note that they're bronzed, strong, with a cleft in the chin, and a jaw-bone which speaks volumes. In fact, their whole make-up suggests a sort of rude strength, which can face the rough and tumble of life. They get that from their fathers, who, like my dear old dad, were the pioneers of Australia. These men landed poor and had to fight drought, aborigines, bushrangers, misfortune after misfortune. They were up against it all the time. They built their houses from the trees, dug their wells, fenced their land, scraped their pennies to get the shillings to buy their stock. In the midst of success, disease often struck them bare. Yet they stuck to it. Gradually the hard times passed away, and to-day many are wealthy. My dad is one. I'm not proud of his money, but I am proud of the grit and courage that has made him rich. These are just the qualities that the soldier must have."
"Oh, certainly," interjected Jones, fascinated by the radiant glow on the animated features of this most charming girl. His logic was being battered to death. He felt his position weakening. It began to dawn on him that he was a conservative Britisher, who had simply been uttering the parrot talk of hide-bound Tories. "You know, Miss Graham, you're beginning to make me feel that I should go to Australia."
"If we were there now I would just whisk you away in my car and show you the Bush. I do love to convince people, especially folks from the old land. Then, Mr. Jones, you would see how free, how charming life is in the Bush. We have all got beautiful homes, plenty of horses, motors, even electric light on some of the stations. In fact, I know of one old squatter who can produce a butler and footmen in breeches. You can have joy rides on motors, picnics miles from civilisation, and dances with the jolliest band of girls and boys I've seen. Everything is natural, all is delightful. I love Australia. I'm awfully proud of it. And I'm proud of those boys over there and all the others who have come to help the old land. Don't judge them by trivial things, Mr. Jones. If they're unconventional, and not good at saluting, they'll stick to any man who can lead them through. In fact, they can fight just as the Tommies did at Waterloo and Mons."
"Well," said Jones with a gasp, "you're an absolute revelation. I have never quite met your type before."
"I'm different—Australian, eh?"
"And very nice too. That's honey, as you call it. But I have said it and you needn't protest," he said with boyish enthusiasm. "Do you think the girls would be kind to me if I went to Australia?"
"They'd spoil you; they spoil all Englishmen."
"Why?"
"Because they like them. They don't pick holes in them as you pick holes in us."