rted off on foot.
He had not gone far when he heard Greenoak's voice behind him.

"Going alone, Dick? Better not. You seem hipped; man, and I don't
think your own company's good for you."

Dick's first impulse was to make an ungracious reply, but he conquered
it.

"Yes, it is," he said. "Every one's tired of me now, so I didn't want
to bore anybody."

"Well, we'll go and lay up at the _draai_ for anything that's moving.
But it's early yet."

It was afternoon, and their departure was fixed for the following
morning. Dick felt desperate.

"Hang it, Greenoak," he burst forth at last. "You don't know how I hate
leaving this place. Had such jolly times here."

"How you hate leaving somebody on this place, was what you should have
said. Eh, Dick?"

"Well, yes, if you put it quite so plainly. The worst of it is, I can't
get an opportunity of speaking to her alone. Couldn't you manage to
make one for me, Greenoak? You can do about everything,"--eagerly.

"Not that. Even if I could I wouldn't. My dear Dick, I'm responsible
to your father; and I won't help in that sort of thing. You've fallen a
victim to propinquity, as many another has done before you, and the best
thing for you is to go away--as we are going--and see how this--er--
fancy stands the test of time and different surroundings. It is evident
that the other party to the difficulty is not in a hurry to clench
matters, which shows her sterling sense. No. Try my prescription."

This and other wise doctrines did Greenoak preach, and at last his
charge became in some measure reconciled to the plan. Anyway, he was
not going to make an ass of himself, he declared.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

FAREWELL.

A man who is "good all round," as the saying goes, in weighty matters,
is rarely a fool in dealing with those of minor importance, although he
is sometimes. In which connection the advice we just heard Greenoak
administer to his charge showed sound judgment and a knowledge of human
nature.

"The other party to the difficulty is in no hurry to clinch matters," he
had said, and it was no more than the truth. Hazel Brandon was gifted
with rather more common-sense than most girls of her age. She and her
young companion had been drawn very much together during their sojourn
at this isolated farm, and she had grown very fond of him; but what she
doubted was whether she had grown fond of him enough. She knew, of
course, how matters were trending, and