“I suppose so. If he’s nice. All the nice men are married--present company excepted.” Mr. Collings was a bachelor and could afford to laugh very heartily. Mr. Cathcart, on the other hand, _was_ married and was not even amused. “You have cabled and written, of course: there is no objection to your going to--er--Mr. Selsbury’s?” “None whatever.” She was overridingly brisk. “He will be delighted to have me.” “Twenty!” said Mr. Cathcart and shook his head. “An infant in law! I really think we must know more about Mr. Selsbury and his condition before--eh, Collings?” Mr. Collings looked appealingly at the girl; she had never seemed more or looked less orphaned than at that moment. “It would be wise, perhaps--?” he no more than suggested. When Diana smiled her eyes wrinkled up and you saw both rows of her small white teeth. “I have taken my cabin: a lovely one. With a bathroom and sitting-room. The walls are panelled in blue brocade silk and there is a cute little brass bedstead in the middle--so that you can fall out either side.” Mr. William Cathcart felt it was the moment to bring down his foot. “I am afraid I cannot consent to your going,” he said quietly. “Why?” Up went her chin. “Yes, why?” demanded Mr. Collings. He was anxious to know. “Because,” said Mr. Cathcart, “because, my dear young lady, you are an infant in the eyes of the wise old law of this country; because Mr. Collings and I stand _in loco parentis_ to you. Now I am old enough to be your father----” “And grandfather,” she said calmly. “But does that matter? There was a lad of sixty trying to find opportunities for squeezing my hand all the way down in the train from Bendigo. Age means nothing if your heart is young.” “Exactly!” said Mr. Collings, whose heart was very young. “The long and the short of it is that you can’t go,” said Mr. William Cathcart defiantly. “I do not wish to apply for an order of the court----” “One moment, little friend of the poor,” said Diana. She threw several priceless law books and a pile of affidavits from a chair and sat down. “A few moments ago--correct me if I am wrong: I seldom am--you produced your hoary Mr. Loco Parentis to crush me to the earth. Meet Colonel Locus Standi!” “Eh?” said William, dithered. “My knowledge of legal formula is slight,” said Diana gravely. “I have lived a pure and a sheltered life amidst the rolling grass lands of Kara-Kara, but ignorant orphan though I am....” Mr. Collings sighed. “...I understand that before a lawyer applies to the courts he must have a client. For no lawyer, except perhaps a lawyer who has been crossed in love and is not quite sane, goes to law without a client.” Mr. William Cathcart shrugged his shoulders. “You must make your own bed,” he said. “The court can’t even make me do that,” she replied. Mr. Cathcart saw her walking across to him and took up his pen hastily.