tailor, manicurist and barber produce the leader. And you say that our boys have not the fine touch about them. Do you think that really counts in war? I think a Tommy wants a man to lead him whether he looks a Caesar or Bill Sikes. You really infer that the Australian blood is coarse and unrefined. Is that so, Mr. Jones?" 

 "Not exactly. But look over there. See these two Australian officers. They seem ungainly in their clothes, and, apparently, feel awkward and ill at ease in this show. They don't respect the polite conventions of Society, and would turn the place into a sort of cowboy saloon if left alone." 

 "What nonsense, Mr. Jones. And if I didn't feel that there was a hope of you knowing us better, I would leave you. What I think you are suffering from is the conservatism of the Britisher, a truly appalling defect, as well as a lack of perception. I grant you that our Australian tailors are absolutely the limit in turning out a man. Still, I believe a man can die as gallantly in a flour sack as in a Bond Street khaki suit. You say they seem ill at ease, and don't lounge in their chairs as if to the manner born. You don't realise that these men are men of action. Their life is spent in a hustling way. They are workers, not idlers. Anything suggestive of luxurious ease is interpreted by them as effeminate." 

 Her companion made as though to speak. But the girl went on: 

 "Now, look here, Mr. Jones, I'll lay an even bet with you that they'll ride, jump and slice the lemon better than any of your troops in Cairo. They're practical people, not dreamers who worry about etiquette and the fine points. Now just you take a good look at their faces. You'll note that they're bronzed, strong, with a cleft in the chin, and a jaw-bone which speaks volumes. In fact, their whole make-up suggests a sort of rude strength, which can face the rough and tumble of life. They get that from their fathers, who, like my dear old dad, were the pioneers of Australia. These men landed poor and had to fight drought, aborigines, bushrangers, misfortune after misfortune. They were up against it all the time. They built their houses from the trees, dug their wells, fenced their land, scraped their pennies to get the shillings to buy their stock. In the midst of success, disease often struck them bare. Yet they stuck to it. Gradually the hard times passed away, and to-day many are wealthy. My dad is one. I'm not proud of his money, but I am proud of the grit and courage that has made him rich. These are just the qualities that the soldier must have." 

 Prev. P 31/77 next