at length, as if unconscious of her inquisitive gaze. She withdrew it by an effort.
"I wish we had! No; most of us were born in Tasmania; and that's a lovely country, far better than this, though personally I prefer the back-blocks. There's room for you to turn round up here!"
"I wonder what you would think of England."
"Not much! I should spend my time on St. Paul's Cathedral—throwing stones into the sea! Follow me, Mr. Fullarton, there's something else I want to show you before we go in; and we can get back this way."
She led him to a fence, squeezed through the wires, and crossed an open space dividing them from the fringe of the same plantation which extended to the house. This space was the width of a race-course, and struck the stranger as being planted with innumerable scarecrows shorn of their last rag. He asked what they were, and Irralie answered, "Our spare rooms."
