"Oh, I am _sure_ he can't come away just now," protested Patty, pale with eagerness and horror. "In the middle of the Exhibition--and a parliamentary crisis coming on--it would be quite impossible!" "I don't know--I don't know. I fancy 'impossible' is not a word you will find in his dictionary," said the old gentleman encouragingly. "When he hears of our little arrangement, he'll want to take a hand, as the Yankees say. He won't like to be left out--no, no." "But, dear Mr. Brion," Patty strenuously implored--for this was really a matter of life and death, "do think what a critical time it is! They never _can_ spare him now." "Then they ought to spare him. Because he is the best man they have, that is no reason why they should work him to death. They don't consider him sufficiently. He gives in to them too much. He is not a machine." "Perhaps he would come," said Patty, "but it would be against his judgment--it would be at a heavy cost to his country--it would be just to please us--oh, don't let us tempt him to desert his post, which _no_ one could fill in his absence! Don't let us unsettle and disturb him at such a time, when he is doing so much good, and when he wants his mind kept calm. Wait for a little while; he might get away for Christmas perhaps." "But by Christmas, I am afraid, you would be gone." "Never mind. We see him in Melbourne. And we came here to get away from all Melbourne associations." "Well, well, we'll see. But I am afraid you will be very dull with only an old fellow like me to entertain you." "Dull!" they all exclaimed in a breath. It was just what they wanted, to be so peaceful and quiet--and, above all things, to have him (Mr. Brion, senior) entirely to themselves.