ath in Sydney and
he rather discredited the sincerity of it for he was being wearied to
death by lion-hunters. Eminene men from the Old Country either get feted
or cut in the Colonies. He was feted because he happened to arrive at a
time when "culture" was fashionable, and Shakespeare Societies, Ibsen
Evenings, History Saturday Afternoons and Science Sundays were the rage.
Foreign legations and Government officials gave him dinners as deadly as
any in England. He saw that he was to appear in character at these
dinners. He was expected to wear a phylactery on his forehead inscribed
"I AM A BIOLOGIST." He was expected to talk biology to the government
ladies, who hoped he would say things that were "rather daring" but
quotable. In fact, they hoped that he himself would be "rather
daring"--but quotable! They talked about Shackleton's expedition, which
was the affair of the moment, and thought that they were being
flatteringly and intelligently biological when they asked him how seals
lived under ice. There was a dance on the flagship which, thanks to the
snotties, was quite alive. Then came a month's interim in the lectures
when more festivities were threatened. Professor Kraill read Marcella's
letter and thought she was probably a rather emotional, rather intense
and rather original lion-hunter. But she had the redeeming feature of
living in the Bush, thirty miles from anywhere. Conceivably, thirty
miles from anywhere, there would be no festivities. He tossed up between
the City and the Bush, and the Bush won. Giving out that he felt very
unwell after the round of gaieties, he basely deserted, got into the
most uncomfortable train in the world and, two days later, threw himself
on the hospitality of the landlord of the bosker hotel at Cook's Wall,
entirely omitting to let Marcella know that he was coming.

CHAPTER XXVII

At Klondyke and Loose End they were great on celebrations. So very
little except work happened that birthdays wedding-days, and
anniversaries of all sorts wore greeted hilariously, and the various
members of the community took it in turn to hold them at their various
homesteads. A birthday happened to Mrs. Twist--her fortieth. She and
Mr. Twist were the oldest inhabitants of the district and the birthday
was a great occasion. Invitations were passed round from hand to mouth;
about twenty grownups and twice as many children turned up one Saturday
afternoon just before tea at the Homestead, which,