But it was not easy to remain in this state with a cheerful young woman like Louisa, or with a more sedate but equally agreeable person like Rosalind, and they presently had a great game of pretending that they were royalty on a tour round the world, so that Nine Elms pier became Gibraltar, and a few minutes later they were going through the Suez Canal, which others called Battersea Bridge. On reaching Sydney (which had no harbour to speak of, but possessed a wobbling pier marked Battersea Park) they disembarked with most of the other voyagers, some of whom had decided that the three were either theatrical people or not quite right in their heads. As they went up the wooden gangway and entered the Park, Louisa had colour in her white cheeks, and, declining assistance of her companions, ordered them to give each other their arms. Which they did for a moment only. “Shan’t go to that dinner this evening,” said Erb. “I think you will,” remarked Rosalind. “Catch you,” said Louisa satirically, “catch you missing a chance like that.” “I shan’t go. I don’t want anything better’n this.” “You’ll have to,” decided Louisa. “And come back and tell us all about it. I’d give anything to see Alice’s face when she hears you’ve been upstairs.” “I’d forgot about Alice.” “She’s forgot about us,” retorted Louisa. “That’s the worst of tall people, they always look down on you. How’d it be if I sat down here for a bit and let you two walk on and come back for me?” “And leave you alone?” asked Rosalind. “I can set here and laugh at the foreigners,” she remarked. Erb and Rosalind made Louisa comfortable on a chair, and left her applying herself once more to the intellectual delight of again reading through “The Carman,” with special attention to the paragraph that concerned herself. Just before they went out of sight of her, in going round the circle where bicycles were swishing along, they turned and waved their hands: she unpinned her straw hat and lifted it in a gentlemanly way. “I wonder,” said Erb thoughtfully, “whether she’s going to make old bones.” “I shouldn’t let her go again to that work of hers.” “If anything serious happened,” he said slowly, “I’d make such a stir about the business that they’d have to shut up the factory.” “That wouldn’t bring her back,” remarked Rosalind. “Back?” Erb stopped affrighted. “Why you don’t think—you don’t fancy for a moment, do you, that she’s going to—” They walked on quickly for a while. “My goodness,” he cried excitedly, “I’d tear the place down for them! There shouldn’t be a stone left! I’d get questions asked about the business in Parliament! I’d organise meetings. I’d make London get white hot about it! I’d never let ’em rest. I’d set every society at ’em. We’d get up demonstrations in the streets. We’d—” “Don’t let’s get cross about anything,” said Rosalind. “I want to look back on to-day when I get into my dull moments.” “_You_ never get dull.”