"Let me think about it a bit, will you?" he replied, "and I'll tell you when I come up to Sydney."
"Right O!" said Jack, a twinge of disappointment in his acquiescence. "Look before you leap, you know."
"Yes—for both sides. You wouldn't want me to jump in, and then squirm because I didn't like it."
"Right you are, old man. You take your own time—I know you won't be wagging your jaw to anybody."
"No. Not even to Harriet."
"Oh, bless you, no. We're not having the women in, if we can help it. Don't believe in it, do you?"
"Not in real politics, I don't."
They stood a moment longer by the sea. Then Jack let go Somers' arm.
"Well," he said, "I'd rather die in a forlorn hope than drag my days out in a forlorn mope. Besides, damn it, I do want to have a shot at something, I do. These politicians absolutely get my wind up, running the country. If I can't do better than that, then let me be shot, and welcome."
"I agree," said Somers.
Jack put his hand on his shoulder, and pressed it hard.
"I knew you would," he said, in moved tones. "We want a man like you, you know—like a sort of queen bee to a hive."
Somers laughed, rather startled by the metaphor. He had thought of himself as many things, but never as a queen bee to a hive of would-be revolutionaries. The two men went up to the house.
"Wherever have you been?" said Victoria.
"Talking politics and red-hot treason," said Jack, rubbing his hands.
"Till you're almost frozen, I'm sure," said Victoria.
Harriet looked at the two men in curiosity and suspicion, but she said nothing. Only next morning when the Callcotts had gone she said to Lovat:
"What were you and Mr Callcott talking about, really?"
"As he said, politics and hot treason. An idea that some of them have got for making a change in the constitution."
"What sort of change?" asked Harriet.
"Why—don't bother me yet. I don't know myself."
