got. You say this is the worst, eh? Well, this would make an Australian cockatoo's mouth water―the worst of New Zealand would.'
'I always thought Australia was all good country,' mused the driver―a flax-stick. 'I always thought―'
'Good country!' exclaimed the man with the grey beard, in a tone of disgust. 'Why, it's only a mongrel desert, except some bits round the coast. The worst dried-up and God-forsaken country I was ever in.'
There was a silence, thoughtful on the driver's part, and aggressive on that of the stranger.
'I always thought,' said the driver, reflectively, after the pause 'I always thought Australia was a good country,' and he placed his foot on the break.
They let him think. The coach descended the natural terraces above the river bank, and pulled up at the pub.
****
'So you're a native of Australia?' said the bagman to the grey-beard, as the coach went on again.
'Well, I suppose I am. Anyway, I was born there. That's the main thing I've got against the darned country.'
'How long did you stay there?'
'Till I got away,' said the stranger. Then, after a think, he added, 'I went away first when I was thirty-five―went to the islands. I swore I'd never go back to Australia again; but I did. I thought I had a kind of affection for old Sydney. I knocked about the blasted country for five or six years, and
