"We have cities, railways, theatres, musical societies, shops, and everything else necessary to make life pleasant. That is civilisation, I suppose. We have also great plains, majestic mountains, splendid rivers, undulating pasture lands and what not. This is uncivilised--if you like to call it so. England is pretty--oh yes, very pretty, but tame like a garden. One gets tired of always living in a garden. A garden is nature's drawing-room. I don't say a word against England, for I like it very much, but at times I feel stifled by the narrowness of the place. England is very beautiful, yes; but New Zealand," concluded Miss Pethram with conviction, "New Zealand is the most beautiful place in the whole world." "My dear," said Mrs. Valpy in a patronising manner, "are you not going a little too far? I've no doubt the place you come from is very nice, very nice indeed, but to compare it with England is ridiculous. You have no city, I think, like London. No, no! London is cosmopolitan, yes--quite so." Having stated this plain truth, Mrs. Valpy looked round with a fat smile of triumph and resumed her knitting, while Tommy dashed into the conversation with slangy vivacity. "Oh, I say, you know, New Zealand's a place where you can have a high old time, but London's the place for larks." "Why not the country," said Clendon drily, "the morning lark." "Oh, I don't mean that sort of lark," interrupted Tommy ingeniously, "the evenin' lark; my style, you know. Waltzin', flirtin', talkin', jolly rather." "You move in the highest circles, Tommy," said Kaituna, who was a somewhat satirical damsel. "You drop your 'g's.'" "Better than dropping your 'h's'." "Or your money," said Toby, lighting a fresh cigarette. "I don't know what we're all talking about." "I think," observed Mrs. Valpy in a geographical style, "we were discussing the Islands of New Zealand." "Rippin' place," said Tommy gaily. "Thomasina, my dear," remarked her Johnsonian mamma, "I really do not think that you are personally----" "Acquainted with the place! No! I'm not. But Kaituna has told me a lot. Archie Maxwell has told me more----" "Mr. Maxwell?" interposed Kaituna, quickly. "Oh, yes! he said that he had visited Auckland on his way to Sydney--but you can't tell New Zealand from one city." "_Ex pede Herculem_," said the classical Toby, "which, being translated means--by the foot shall ye know the head." "Auckland isn't the head of New Zealand. It was, but now Wellington is the capital. The city of wooden match-boxes built in a draughty situation." "How unpatriotic." "Oh, no, I'm not, Mr. Clendon. But I reserve my patriotism for Dunedin?" "You mean Edinburgh. "I mean the new Edinburgh with the old name, not the old Edinburgh with the new name." "Epigrammatic, decidedly. This is instructive, Miss Pethram. Do they teach epigram in the schools of Dunedin?"