ow, had at one end a tray with the
remains of her breakfast of tea, scones and fruit. The end nearest her
was littered with sheaves of manuscript, newspaper-cuttings,
photographs and sepia sketches--obviously for purposes of illustration:
gum-bottle, stylographs and the rest, with, also, several note-books
held open by bananas, recently plucked from the ripening bunch, to
serve as paper-weights.

She had meant to be very busy that morning. There was her weekly letter
for THE IMPERIALIST to send off by to-morrow's mail, and, moreover, she
had to digest the reasons of the eminent journal for returning to her
an article that had not met with the editor's approval--the great
Gibbs: a potent newspaper-factor in the British policy of the day.

It had been an immense honour when Mr Gibbs had chosen Joan Gildea from
amongst his staff for a roving commission to report upon the political,
financial, economic and social aspects of Australia, and upon Imperial
interests generally, as represented in various sideshows on her route.

But it happened that she was now suffering from a change at the last
moment in that route--a substitution of the commplace P. & O. for the
more exciting Canadian Pacific, Mr Gibbs having suddenly decided that
Imperialism in Australia demanded his special correspondent's immediate
attention.

For this story dates back to the time when Mr Joseph Chamberlain was in
office; when Imperialism, Free Trade and Yellow Labour were the catch
words of a party, and before the great Australian Commonwealth had
become an historical fact.

THE IMPERIALIST's Special Correspondent looked worried. She was
wondering whether the English mail expected to-day would bring her
troublesome editorial instructions. She examined some of the
photographs and drawings with a dissatisfied air. A running
inarticulate commentary might have been put into words like this:

'No good ... I can manage the letterpress all right once I get the hang
of things. But when it comes to illustrations, I can't make even a
gum-tree look as if it was growing .... And Gibbs hates having amateur
snapshots to work up .... Hopeless to try for a local artist.... I
wonder if Colin McKeith could give me an idea..... Why to goodness
didn't Biddy join me! .... If she'd only had the decency to let me know
in time WHY she couldn't.... Money, I suppose--or a Man! .... Well,
I'll write and tell her never to expect a literary leg-up from me
again...'

Mrs Gilde