seemed to cross Meryl's face. "I envy
you," she said in a low voice. "You can stay on with the man you love,
and see it every day. I must go back to the tea-parties."

"Most people pity me."

"I dare say; and they envy me," with a little forlorn smile.

"You have much power, and power is good," softly.

"Have I?... How, why, where?... What shall I do with all this money my
father makes? I wonder what I could do to take from my heart this
feeling that I am an alien and an intruder in this lovely country,
among you people who are quietly making history? If your husband
wants money for his mission, I could get him a cheque for a thousand
pounds from my father, I know; but what is that compared to giving
one's life as you do, and growing right into the heart of the country,
and feeling just that it is yours because of what you have given? I
know that is how Major Carew feels also. One can see it in his rapt
gaze. He does not care for very much else in the world. But we, my
father and I, we just take riches out, and give nothing but cheques
which we never even miss." She got up and moved to the doorway,
controlling with an effort her sudden, unexpected show of emotion.
"The others have been looking at your fowls and cattle," she said,
"and now they are coming back. I hope Mr. Grenville will show us over
the mission station."

"He will be delighted," Ailsa answered, following her lead with quick
understanding; "and another day you must come and sit in my doorway
again."

"I should love to;" and she stepped out into the sunlight to join the
gay trio Diana was still the life of.

Then Mr. Grenville took them into his workshops and his little mission
hall, and showed them how he taught the boys carpentering and
blacksmithing, and reading and writing and farming; making good,
useful labourers of them with even greater zeal than that with which
he made them Christians. Diana, the outspoken, could not resist a
surprised comment.

"I thought people who had been abroad always ran down missionaries,
and scoffed at missionary work?"

"They do very often," Grenville replied, with frankness, "and not
without reason. A great many missionaries are naturally not very
suitable men. It is almost impossible to pick and choose."

"There are some," put in Stanley disgustedly, "who just confirm all
the blacks they can, without bothering about how much they understand,
and then make communicants of them so that they can send good figu