“Is that how she worked it on us? That woman would sell her skin—she hasn’t any soul—to bag a social lion. Why should we go there when we can see each other here so much better?” He chuckled. So did I. “Do you think that the Old Campaigner will split about where you are?”

“No. I asked her not to because Mrs. Thrumnoddy put it in the paper that I had only cotton stockings—and they are cashmere.”

This made him hilarious and he put on his hat. “Come, we’ll rout out a few people in Macquarie Street We must start your career.”

We had a friendly time in both Houses of Parliament. I was disappointed that our law makers were such common looking old men, but to be with Mr. Hardy gave the visit glamour. Everybody made a fuss of him and seemed to think it just right for him to have me in tow. “You’ll teach her the ropes and see that she makes the most of her genius,” was the sort of thing they said. Mr. Hardy acted as though I were a child he was indulging, but sometimes in his eye was a look which a woman knows for what it is without EXPERIENCE. I sat on the seat beside Sir Somebody in the Upper House, and we were given tea in the M.L.A. place. Mr. Simms had us wait while he spoke in debate, and then gave us coffee in his room. I had not seen him since I was a child, and it was a day full of debate, but he was cordial and said Mrs. Simms would take me home to stay with her. Everybody thought Mr. Hardy a great man, and that my career was on the way to glory under his guidance.

He accompanied me across in the ferry. (How I revelled in travelling on the ferries!) He saw me to the gates of Geebung Villa. “We must have all the days we can together. I’ll fix up something for tomorrow.”

Mrs. Crasterton was quite fussy about my late appearance. She had returned a few minutes earlier to find that Mrs. Thrumnoddy had called up three times during the afternoon. Mrs. Crasterton was surprised to hear that I had not gone to the Australia. I said that Mr. Hardy had not gone either, that he thought it was much more important to give me a lesson in style, and that we had been at the House of Parliament seeing my father’s old friends.

Mrs. Thrumnoddy rang again. She was angry to be flouted by a little country bumpkin. Mrs. Crasterton said I had better make my own excuses. “I’m so sorry,” I murmured into the ’phone, “but I was detained by the Minister for Education in Debate, and I was frightened to go to your party in cashmere stockings. I knew if you had Mr. Hardy I should not be missed, because he was at Parliament House while I was there, and everyone was so excited to see him that they did not notice me.”