They found a garage that readily supplied Mr. Warner with two cars, in one of which they were soon back at the _Moondarra_, where they found the others waiting on the wharf. Carriers had taken their heavier luggage; lighter effects were quickly packed in, and presently they were gliding along a well-kept road, where sparse gum trees fringed bungalow houses set in gardens flaming with many unfamiliar flowers. The motors made short work of the distance; soon they could see the buildings of Perth, and then a gleam of silver, and a turn in the road brought them out beside the Swan, a wide, shining expanse, dotted with the white sails of many little yachts. Dick uttered a delighted whistle.
"I say! Did you know it was such a big river, mother?"
"No, I didn't," admitted his mother. "Why it is almost a lake! What an ideal place for yachting!"
Perth seemed to think so, for the boats were legion; fairy-like yachts, little rowing skiffs, motor-boats chugging across the rippled surface, and even canoes, their broad paddles flashing in the sunlight as they dipped and fell. Boat-houses were thick along the banks: here and there the big buildings of yachting clubs, with wide verandahs and balconies overhanging the water. All the river was full of the stir of moving boats.
"I think this is a jolly place," Dick pronounced, solemnly.
The car turned from the river and ran along a wide, tree-fringed road, and in a moment they were in the heart of Perth itself, winding in and out of the traffic until they stopped before a big hotel. Mr. Warner was before them. Their rooms were already engaged, and a boy in buttons took them up and brought their luggage. Dick was kneeling on the floor in his mother's room unstrapping her dressing-case, when a knock came to the door. Mrs. Lester opened it.
Mr. Warner stood there, his enormous bulk seeming to fill the corridor.
"I ran out to the Orient office, it's no distance from here," he said, beaming at them. "The _Ohio_ comes in at ten o'clock to-morrow morning. And there's a wireless for you!"
He held out a thin brown envelope. Then he was gone, and the door shut, and Mrs. Lester was tearing at the envelope with fingers that shook.
"Dickie!" she said, catching at the boy; "Dickie." They clung together for a moment, and the flimsy paper that was like a dear voice speaking after twelve months of silence fluttered to the ground between them.