‘I do not see what father is to do in all this,’ said Victoria.
‘Then I am afraid I have failed to make my meaning clear. He might do everything; he might become the father of his country by sowing the seeds of a governing caste. Your worst danger, at present, is the want of all distinction in externals between governors and governed. I have already suggested a slight improvement in the matter of domestic style. There are others. Your father dwells in the same sort of hut as his people—why not raise the roof of the hut? Six inches would do it. He is altogether too easy of approach. Is there no one who could act as chamberlain, usher, or go-between?’
‘Reuben hasn’t got much to do of evenings,’ said the Ancient, in a musing tone that seemed to betoken no displeasure.
‘That’s it; live like yourself, and take your place; guide your people; rouse them out of this sloth of comfort and happiness; give them national ideals, great ambitions, great struggles.’
He shook his head. ‘I really don’t think you could get up a fight about anything here.’
‘I don’t mean that exactly; but why not have a foreign policy, and then it would all come in the way of nature? Have you no neighbours?’
‘None.’
‘There’s that Island Reuben found out, father,’ said Victoria.
‘Why not place it under your protectorate?’
‘There’s nothing to protect, only some dead coral and a cave full of bones. Besides, it’s a hundred and fifty miles away.’