ow we have made him _kwaatj_," said Andrina. "See now, I'll get him
to laugh again." Then, raising her voice, "Adrian! Adrian! wait. I
want to stroll round the garden with you and hear about The Cause."

"That has made him more _kwaat_ than ever," whispered Condaas; for the
badgered one, who had hesitated, turned away again with an angry jerk,
scenting more chaff on his sacred subject. Andrina looked knowing.

"Adrian!" she hailed again--"Wait. I want to tell you about Aletta.
Really. You know, I heard from her yesterday."

The effect was magical, also comical. The affronted "patriot" stopped
short. There was no irresolution now about his change of front.

"Come, then," he said.

With a comical look at the other two, Andrina tripped off, and that she
had satisfactorily carried out her stated intention was manifest by the
animated way in which they appeared to be conversing.

"That drew him," chuckled Condaas. "You know, Mr Kershaw, he was
awfully mashed on Aletta the last time she came home."

"Condaas, what sort of expressions are you using?" said her mother
reprovingly. "I don't know where you learnt them, or what Mr Kershaw
will think."

"Why we learnt them from him, of course, Ma," replied the girl. "You
don't suppose we picked up that kind of thing from the very solemn old
maid you got for us as English governess."

"Not from me. Maybe it was from Frank Wenlock," said Colvin, who was
speculating how the object of their present merriment could pass by the
charms of Andrina, who was undeniably a pretty girl, in favour of her
elder sister. The latter he had never seen. She had been absent in
Cape Town, at school or with relatives, ever since his own arrival in
that part of the country, but there were photographic portraits of her,
decking the wall of the sitting-room and the family album. These, to
his impartial eye, conveyed the impression of rather a heavy-looking
girl, at the awkward stage, with bunched-up shoulders and no pretensions
whatever to good looks. To be sure, he had heard a great deal on the
subject of the absent one, her attainments and attractiveness, but such
he unhesitatingly attributed to family bias.

Struck with a sudden idea, he moved into the sitting-room, and casually,
as it were, drew up in front of a framed portrait which stood upon the
piano.

"That is the latest of Aletta," said Condaas, who had followed him in.
"She sent it up to us only a post or two ago; sinc