The time arrived, all too soon, when Edgar Foster was to leave Redbank. Unlike many lads, he was not eager to have done with lessons, and take his place in the busy world. During his stay at Redbank he had made many friends, Will Brown being an especial favourite with him. Dr. Hook was proud of his scholar, for Edgar had done as well at work as at play.  
When the holiday time came round, Edgar Foster bade farewell to Redbank with feelings of regret. As he looked back at the school he was leaving he thought of the many happy hours he had spent within its walls. He had gone through trial and struggle, such as every lad must encounter, but they only made victory taste the sweeter.
 
‘I shall feel quite lonely next term,’ said Will Brown, who was going home with Edgar to spend a few days. ‘It’s lucky for some of us Rakes is leaving, or he would have made it uncomfortably hot. I shall never forget the thrashing you gave him. It did me good to see you punish him;’ and Will Brown chuckled¹ with delight at the mere² thought.
 
‘If I never have a harder battle to fight than that,’ said Edgar, ‘I shall be lucky.’
 
‘What are you going to do?’ asked Will Brown.
 
‘With my father’s permission I shall go to Australia,’ said Edgar. ‘You know how fond I have always been of reading and learning about our great colonies. I think it is a splendid thing to start life in a new country, where you are not bound down by a lot of old-world prejudices.’
 
‘And what shall you do in Australia?’ asked Will Brown.
 
‘I hardly know, but you may be sure I shall not remain idle very long. There ought to be plenty for an active young fellow like me to do out there.’
 
‘They are great cricketers, the Australians,’ said Brown. ‘You’re sure to get into one of the best elevens, and that will help you along.’
 
‘And give me a chance of a trip home perhaps,’ said Edgar. ‘I should hardly like playing against England.’
 
‘I expect you will become such an enthusiastic colonist³ that you will be only too eager to assist in lowering the flag of old England on the cricket-field.’
 
‘We shall see,’ replied Edgar. ‘Of one thing you may be quite sure: I shall look upon Australia as my home if I have to earn my living there.’
 
Robert Foster was heartily⁴ glad to welcome his son’s schoolmate at Elm Lodge⁵. He was a believer in schoolboy friendships when judiciously⁶ made.
 
Elm Lodge was not a large place, but it was old-fashioned and picturesque⁷, and overlooked the Thames near Twickenham. Robert Foster, in addition to being a great cricketer, was a skilful⁸ oarsman, and many a Thames waterman had found it a hard task to row with him. He was also an enthusiastic fisherman, and knew the favourite haunts of the famous Thames trout⁹, and where many a good jack¹⁰ was to be found. There was a boathouse at Elm Lodge, and Edgar always anticipated a good time on the great river.
 
Doris Foster was a bright, merry girl of seventeen, a perfect picture of ruddy health, her cheeks untouched by any artificial beautifier. Nature was her lady’s-maid, and Doris Foster would not have changed her for the most skilful of tire-women. It was a difficult matter to keep Doris Foster indoors, no matter how bad the weather might be. She revelled¹¹ in sunshine, but she loved the keen, sharp, frosty air of winter, and the sound of the frozen snow crunching¹² beneath her tiny feet. She knew the names of the wild-flowers, and was well acquainted with their haunts, and also their habits. She was not a clever girl, but she was thoroughly¹³ domesticated¹⁴, a far more desirable accomplishment¹⁵. Her father and brother were her best friends, and she made but few new acquaintances. Doris Foster was a true-born English girl, not a forced artificial production such as may be encountered by the score in the Row, or the fashionable thoroughfares of the West End. She had not learned to talk slang, and to consider it correct to endeavour to make people think, ‘What a pity she is not a man!’
 
With the enthusiasm of a schoolboy, Will Brown adored Doris Foster. There was no maudlin¹⁶, sentimental¹⁷ love nonsense about his adoration¹⁸. It was the pure affection and liking¹⁹ a healthy youth feels for a healthy girl.
 
‘Excuse the expression, Edgar,’ he said one day, ‘but your sister is a brick.’
 
The schoolboy ‘brick’ is synonymous for everything that is good. When one lad calls another a ‘brick’ there’s a ring about the word that is unmistakable. So, when Will Brown called his sister a brick, Edgar Foster heartily endorsed²⁰ the sentiment.
 
‘I’d like to know,’ said Will, ‘if there is anything she cannot do?’
 
‘Several things,’ said Edgar.
 
They were sitting in a boat close to the garden hedge, and passing their time pleasantly enough.
 
‘Enumerate some of them,’ said Will Brown incredulously.
 
‘She cannot smoke,’ said Edgar solemnly; ‘nor can she make a speech. She would be a ghastly failure as a woman politician, or a leader of fashion. I am afraid she could not write a book, and drag all her female friends through a moral pillory²¹ in it. Oh, there are heaps of things Doris cannot do!’
 
‘And a jolly good thing, too!’ said Will Brown. ‘I hate stuck-up girls—they’re worse than spoony girls. Now, your sister—well, a fellow can make a chum of her, and all that, don’t you know.’
 
‘Comprehensive, certainly,’ laughed Edgar. ‘What does “all that, don’t you know” mean?’
 
Will Brown waved his hand towards the flowing river, and was at a loss for an answer.
 
Splash!
 
‘What’s that?’ said Will, as he shook the water off his boating-jacket.
 
‘That is Miss “All that, don’t you know,”’ laughed Edgar.
 
‘Where is she?’ said Will, jumping up, and narrowly missing overturning the boat.
 
‘In safety, on the other side of the hedge,’ said Edgar loudly. ‘She dare not come nearer, for fear of the consequences.’
 
Splash!
 
‘We had better get out of this,’ said Will.
 
A merry peal²² of laughter sounded from the other side of the hedge.
 
‘You lazy boys! I thought I would rouse you. Pull the boat round to the steps, and take me for a row immediately.’
 
‘We decline to be ordered about,’ said Edgar. ‘Ask politely, and your request may be granted.’
 
‘Will Mr. William Brown and Mr. Edgar Foster, of Redbank School—ahem! College—have the goodness to row to the steps of Elm Lodge, where they will find Miss Doris Foster at home?’
 
‘That’s much better,’ said Edgar. ‘Our compliments to Miss Doris Foster, and we hasten to comply with her request.’
 
‘Pull, Edgar, you lazy beggar!’ said Will, ‘for Elm Lodge, home, and beauty.’
 
Doris Foster looked charming in her light summer dress and large river hat, as she stood on the steps leading from the lawn to the water.
 
‘Your ladyship has showered many favours upon us of late,’ said Will Brown, as he gave her his hand and she stepped into the boat; ‘in fact, we are in danger of being overwhelmed with them.’
 
‘Doris, you ought not to throw stones,’ said Edgar, with an attempt to be serious.
 
‘I did not throw stones,’ said Doris.
 
‘You hear her?’ said Edgar to Will. ‘She did not throw stones! I blush for my sister.’
 
‘They were two half-bricks,’ said Doris. ‘Didn’t they splash!’ And she laughed merrily.
 
‘There’s prevarication²³!’ said Edgar. ‘A brick in this instance is to all intents and purposes a stone.’
 
‘A brick is a brick,’ said Doris; ‘therefore it cannot be a stone.’
 
‘A brick is not a brick when it is only half a brick,’ said Edgar.
 
‘If you don’t stop it,’ said Will Brown, ‘I’ll——Look out!’ he shouted.
 
There was a bend in the river, and they did not see the small launch until it was nearly on to them. The swirl²⁴ she made in the water caused their boat to dance up and down in the swell²⁵.
 
‘All your fault,’ said Edgar to his sister. ‘But, thank goodness! it has put an end to your argument.’
 
They had a pleasant row, and came back glowing with health, and very hungry. Luncheon²⁶ proved most acceptable, and was thoroughly enjoyed by these young people with good appetites and no thoughts of indigestion.
 
Doris Foster missed Will Brown when he left Elm Lodge, for she had come to regard him as a sincere friend. She had, however, other things to occupy her mind now, for Edgar was to sail for Australia in a couple of months. She dreaded²⁷ the parting with her brother, not only on her own account, but because she knew how much her father would miss him. She was half inclined to be angry with Edgar because he had chosen to go abroad. At the same time, she admired the spirit of adventure that tempted²⁸ him away from a comparatively easy life in England. She knew if she had been a man she would have followed her brother’s example.
 
Robert Foster made the most of the time his son was to remain at home.
 
‘I shall be sorry to part with you,’ he said to Edgar; ‘but you are young, and I am not old. So I hope, ere many years have gone, we may meet again. I believe it will do you good to go abroad. One thing you must bear in mind: come home again if you do not like it.’
 
Edgar Foster was fond of the sea, and, as his father knew the owner of one of the principal lines of sailing ships trading to Australia, he had decided²⁹ to make the voyage in the Distant Shore, a large vessel³⁰ holding a quick record.
 
‘You are quite sure you prefer to go out in a sailing vessel?’ said Robert Foster. ‘It will be a tedious voyage.’
 
‘I am sure the time will pass quickly,’ said Edgar. ‘I love the sea. Those big steamers are too much like hotels, and I cannot bear hotel life.’
 
‘Please yourself, my boy. The Distant Shore is a fine vessel, and Captain Manton a good seaman³¹. He’ll look after you well, I feel sure.’
 
The weeks rolled all too quickly by, and the time drew near when the Distant Shore was to sail for Sydney.
 
Edgar Foster paid a visit to Redbank, and was heartily welcomed by his old schoolmates, who wished him a prosperous voyage and success in the new country. Dr. Hook was very kind to him, and gave him some good advice.
 
As Edgar shook hands with him, Dr. Hook said:
 
‘An old friend of mine once gave me what I consider good advice. He said: “Don’t fret³², keep your temper, and mind your own business.” If you carry out his precepts³³, I think you will do well.’
 
Edgar did not feel in very good spirits when his last night at home arrived. As he looked around the cosy³⁴ room, he wondered how many years it would be before he saw it again, and the dear ones he must leave behind. He said to himself he must work hard and earn a good name, and then he would come home and be received with open arms.
 
His father was kinder than ever on this their evening of parting, and Doris did all in her power to make things bright and cheerful. Edgar never ceased to remember this particular night, and it came vividly³⁵ before him on many occasions when far away.
 
Robert Foster and his daughter saw Edgar sail in the Distant Shore, and waved him a tearful farewell.
 
As Edgar stood looking at them he felt lonely, and when they gradually receded³⁶ from his sight he heaved a sigh, and felt a choking sensation in his throat.
 
When Robert Foster and Doris reached Elm Lodge again he kissed her fondly, and said in a broken voice:
 
‘God knows when we shall see him again, Doris. You are all I have left now; you must not leave your father.’
 
‘Edgar will return some day,’ she said quietly. ‘I will take his place until then. When he comes back you will forget all the sorrow of parting.’