‘We are being watched over by the _genius loci_, that is very certain,’ said Reggie. ‘How it comes to pass that these delightful, interesting personages seem to turn up at critical junctures, beats me. May I ask if this Mrs. Maclean is above the average in point of good looks?’
‘She is one of the sweetest, prettiest, most charming young women I ever encountered,’ declared Mrs. Banneret.
‘And Dad met her on board ship, I think I gathered?’
‘Yes, coming from New Zealand,’ volunteered Vanda; ‘but wait till you see her. She has a look of “Sheila” and “A Daughter of Heth” combined.’
‘H—m, ha! There seems a certain uniformity in the pleasant acquaintances Dad meets with on his travels. They are rarely to be described as plain, I observe. But as long as you don’t object, mater, it’s not our business.’
‘Your father’s taste is correct in all respects, Master Reggie,’ replied Mrs. Banneret, with an air of decision. ‘I hope we shall always be able to say the same of your prepossessions.’
‘Hope and trust you will, mother dear! I suppose none of us boys will have a chance with this ex-princess; she seems to have got such a start.’
‘I saw her,’ said Hermione, ‘just before the Melbourne Cup. Corisande and I are trembling in our shoes.’
The fair object of this discussion lost no time in commencing the hospitable office which she had guaranteed to perform—making her appearance, indeed, shortly after breakfast, and equipped for joining the pedestrian party if such was desired. Needless to say, she was enthusiastically received. After greeting Mr. and Mrs. Banneret with true Highland cordiality, the needful introductions being completed, Mrs. Maclean said:
‘And so these are the young people I remember in Sydney, after we landed from the _Hauroto_? How they have grown! The young gentlemen were in England, but Hermione and Vanda I should have known anywhere. You can’t think what a joy it is to me to meet you all here “on my native heath,” so to speak—only I wasn’t born on it; and it nearly broke my heart when we came away from the old station on the Wondabyne, and I was sent to school in England. I used to cry and cry for hours. At last I got so low-spirited that mother began to talk of going back to Australia. There was one book that brought back the dear old days, however. I used to read it over and over again when I felt homesick and almost too miserable to live. It brought back the scent of the gum leaf in the early morn, the gold glint of the wattle-blossom in spring, and the rattle of hoofs when the horses were brought in for the day. At last they took it away from me, as it was thought it had a bad effect. You will guess what book it was!’