The two talked late into every night after this, Laura perched, monkey-fashion, on the side of her friend's bed. Evelyn had all the accumulated wisdom of eighteen, and was able to clear her young companion up on many points about which Laura had so far been in the dark. But when, in time, she came to relate the mortifications she had suffered--and was still called on to suffer--at the hands of the other sex, Evelyn pooh-poohed the subject. "Time enough in a couple of years for that. Don't bother your head about it in the meantime." "I don't now--not a bit. I only wanted to know why. Sometimes, Evvy, do you know, they liked to talk to quite little kids of seven and eight better than me." "Perhaps you talked too much yourself--and about yourself?" "I don't think I did. And if you don't talk something, they yawn and go away." "You've got to let them do the lion's share, child. Just you sit still, and listen, and pretend you like it--even though you're bored to extinction." "And they never need to pretend anything, I suppose? No, I think they're horrid. You don't like them either, Evvy, do you? ... any more than I do?" Evelyn laughed. "Say what you think they are," persisted Laura and waggled the other's arm, to make her speak. "Mostly fools," said Evelyn, and laughed again--laughed in all the conscious power of lovely eighteen. Overjoyed at this oneness of mind, Laura threw her arms round her friend's neck and kissed her. "You dear!" she said. And yet, a short time afterwards, it was on this very head that she had to bear the shock of a rude awakening. Evelyn's people came to Melbourne that year from the Riverina. Evelyn was allowed considerable freedom, and one night, by special permit, Laura also accepted an invitation to dinner and the theatre. The two girls drove to a hotel, where they found Evelyn's mother, elegant but a little stern, and a young lady-friend. Only the four of them were present at dinner, and the meal passed off smoothly; though the strangeness of dining in a big hotel had the effect of tying Laura's tongue. Another thing that abashed her was the dress of the young lady, who sat opposite. This person--she must have been about the ripe age of twenty-five--was nipped into a tight little pink satin bodice, which, at the back, exposed the whole of two very bony shoulder-blades. But it was the front of the dress that Laura faced; and, having imbibed strict views of propriety from Mother, she wriggled on her chair whenever she raised her eyes. They drove to the theatre--though it was only a few doors off. The seats were in the dress circle. The ladies sat in the front row, the girls, who were in high frocks, behind. Evelyn made a face of laughing discontent. "It's so ridiculous the mater won't let me dress." These words gave Laura a kind of stab. "Oh Evvy, I think you're EVER so much nicer as you are," she whispered, and squeezed her friend's hand.