"A child? My dear James, I was a grown woman. We were so poor that we had to give up crinolines, and come down to two-yard skimps. The country was desolate, the rampart and the wall languished together, and coals were so high that we had to use briquettes. Trade was going all to pieces, and to keep up the Fleet, they actually taxed excursion tickets. My father was ruined by the crash in Centralias, and I went out as a governess."
"But Lyonesse," said Sydney, "has made everything all right. We were never so prosperous."
"My dear James, I am still a governess. Lyonesse? It was a moor in those days, and the foxes walked upon it. Yes, there was a very frousty old man who smelt of tobacco, in a shed where Lyonesse stands now, and a rumour got about that he could take common water and make it into gold. That was John Brand I. Yes, the workshop was very smelly, I remember; but think of it, pet, he was making solid blocks of gold as if they were only bricks."
The old lady was very busy at her lace cushion. "Yes, my father took me to see him just when I got over the mumps—most unbecoming, dear, with red flannel wraps. His son, John Brand II., was a fat man with a wart on his nose, and oh, such manners! He was the one who brought hundreds of tons of gold to the Mint, so that the price went down, and all the mines had to close, and lots of people were ruined. Russia went bankrupt; that was in 1940, and all the really nice people there had their heads chopped off in the Red Terror. That was an unspeakable mercy, because, you see, they had to leave off invading India.
"People used to say that the gold making was all vanity and lying divination, but the Government asked Mr. Brand if he would mind being taxed. He said he mustn't be taxed too much or he would go over to the United States, but he didn't mind paying for the fleets, and armies, and things."
"Do you know what taxes Lyonesse pays now?" said my Lord. "Brand pays over a hundred million pounds a year in Imperial taxes alone. Besides that he has to give all Governments a big profit on their coinages—and that amounts to millions a year saved to the tax-payers of the world. Goodness only knows how rich the man is. I suppose——"
Miss Temple, who hated interruptions, turned briskly to Mrs. Osbourne.
"Now, my dear pet," she said, "I hope James doesn't bore you?"
"Oh no, dear Miss Temple, I'm quite used to it. My Jack, you know, is on the Stock Exchange."
"Now where was I?" asked Miss Temple. "Oh yes, the city of Lyonesse. Well, that was named after the place where King Arthur came from when he was washed up. Merlin the sorcerer, you know, was fishing, and caught Arthur; and afterwards when Arthur didn't die, you know, but went away to be healed of his grievous wound by the Three Queens in one barge—well, I forget exactly how it was, but anyway King Arthur went to Lyonesse, wherever that is. And some day he's to come back and save England. Lyonesse, the real place I mean, has grown, until now it has any amount of people (and they do say that the co-operative stores are ridiculously cheap and most fashionable), and it's been the saving of England. Now John Brand II. is buried there—cremated, I mean—and John Brand III. reigns in his stead. Is it true, Sydney, that he's a woman hater?"