hirt of steel mail. For, though of a frank and generous disposition,
she was not a fool, and life had taught her a few things about the
attitude of mind of most pretty unattached women toward young girls in
the same case.

At eleven o'clock one morning, they were all gathered round Mrs.
Hallett's tea-table--Gay, Berlie, Mrs. Hading, and several men, for 11
A.M. is the "off" hour in Rhodesia, when everyone leaves his business,
if he has any, to take tea in the pleasantest society he can find. At
Wankelo, most people sallied forth to the lounge of the "Falcon," the
club-room of the town, where morning tea was a ceremony, almost a rite.

Someone had just remarked on the prolonged absence of Lundi Druro when
his car rolled up to the door, and, a moment later he strolled in and
came over to the circle of tea-drinkers, cool and peaceful in their
white clothes and shady hats. Unfortunately, his dog, Toby, chose this
as a suitable occasion for saying a few pleasant words to Gay's dog,
Weary. In a moment chairs were being pushed out of the way; teacups
and scones and buttered toast were flying in every direction; men were
tangled up with a revolving, growling mass of black and brown fur, and
half a dozen feminine voices were crying pitifully:

"Oh, save Toby!" "Don't let Weary kill him!" "Poor little Toby, he
has no teeth!"

Toby was not the dog Druro had fished out of the Lundi River--to that
bull-terrier there had been many successors, and all had come to bad
and untimely ends. Druro, indeed, had sworn that he would never
acquire another dog; but Toby had sprung from none knew whence and
acquired him. He was a little black, limping fellow of no breed at
all, whose eyes had grown filmy from long gazing at Lundi Druro as if
he were a sun-god or something that dazzled the vision. He usually
carried a sacrificial offering in the shape of an enormous stone culled
on his travels, and, with this in his mouth, would sit for hours,
gazing at his god playing poker or otherwise engaged. The only time he
relinquished this stone was when he had a fight on hand, a rather
frequent occurrence, as his perpetual limp and partially chewed-off
ears testified. For, though his teeth were worn away by the
stone-habit, he had a soul of steel and was afraid of nothing in the
dog line. Gay's dog was one of those from whom he would stand no
nonsense, and they never met without attempting to settle their feud
for once and all. Druro usua