“Cruickshank says if the main question had been sprung a month ago we wouldn’t have gone over.  As it is, on several points we’ve got to wait.  If they reject the preferential trade idea over there we shall have done a little good, for any government would be disposed to try to patch up something to take the place of imperial union in that case; and a few thousands more for shipping subsidies and cheap cablegrams would have a great look of strengthening the ties with the colonies.  But if they commit themselves to a zollverein with us and the rest of the family you won’t hear much more about the need to foster communications.  Communications will foster themselves.”

“Just so,” remarked John Murchison.  “They’ll save their money.”

“I wouldn’t think so before—­I couldn’t,” Lorne went on, “but I’m afraid it’s rather futile, the kind of thing we’ve been trying to do.  It’s fiddling at a superstructure without a foundation.  What we want is the common interest.  Common interest, common taxation for defence, common representation, domestic management of domestic affairs, and you’ve got a working Empire.”

“Just as easy as slippin’ off a log,” remarked Horace Williams.

“Common interest, yes,” said his father; “common taxation, no, for defence or any other purpose.  The colonies will never send money to be squandered by the London War Office.  We’ll defend ourselves, as soon as we can manage it, and buy our own guns and our own cruisers.  We’re better business people than they are, and we know it.”

“I guess that’s right, Mr Murchison,” said Horace Williams.  “Our own army and navy—­in the sweet bye-and-bye.  And let ’em understand they’ll be welcome to the use of it, but quite in a family way—­no sort of compulsion.”

“Well,” said Lorne, “that’s compatible enough.”

“And your domestic affairs must include the tariff,” Mr Murchison went on.  “There’s no such possibility as a tariff that will go round.  And tariffs are kittle cattle to shoo behind.”

“Has anybody got a Scotch dictionary?” inquired Stella.  “This conversation is making me tired.”

“Suppose you run away and play with your hoop,” suggested her brother.  “I can’t see that as an insuperable difficulty, Father.  Tariffs could be made adaptable, relative to the common interest as well as to the individual one.  We could do it if we liked.”

“Your adaptability might easily lead to other things.  What’s to prevent retaliation among ourselves?  There’s a slump in textiles, and the home Government is forced to let in foreign wool cheaper.  Up goes the Australian tax on the output of every mill in Lancashire.  The last state of the Empire might be worse than the first.”

“It wouldn’t be serious.  If I pinched Stella’s leg as I’m going to in a minute, she will no doubt kick me; and her instincts are such that she will probably kick me with the leg I pinched, but that won’t prevent our going to the football match together tomorrow and presenting a united front to the world.”