Do let's go, Jim."
"I hoped you wouldn't choose tea here," said Jim, striding off to the
car. "Bush townships don't run to decent tea places, as a rule; the
hotel is the only chance, and though they can give you a fair dinner,
tea always seems to be a weak spot." He packed them in, and they moved
off down the winding street.
"Do you know," Jim said, "that I never went down this street before
except on a horse, or behind one? It seems quite queer and unnatural
to be doing it in a car. I suppose I'll get used to it. Had a good trip
up?"
"Oh, quite," Tommy told him. "Jim, how few people seem to be living in
Australia!"
Jim gave a crack of laughter.
"Well, you saw a good many in Melbourne, didn't you?" he asked.
"Oh, yes. But Melbourne isn't Australia. It's only away down in a wee
little corner." Tommy flushed a little. "You see, I haven't seen much of
any country except France and the England that's near London," she said.
"And there isn't much waste space there."
"No, there isn't," Jim agreed. "I suppose we'll fill up Australia some
day. But the people who come out now seem to have a holy horror of going
into the 'waste spaces,' as you call 'em, Tommy. They want to nestle up
to the towns, and go to picture theatres."
"Well, I want to go and find a nice waste space," said Tommy. "Not too
waste, of course, only with room to look all round.
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