d there lies the
butterfly with its wings open, and all their exquisite design and
colouring and blending unfolded to the eye.

"You have some rare treasures in this far Rhodesia," Meryl said to
their guide and host as they reluctantly left the hidden jewel behind;
"treasures that your children and your children's children will be
very proud of some day."

"If they have time," he answered a trifle cynically. "Not many
Rhodesians to-day have time to care for any but the treasures that
they can work for and grasp and carry away. The time for natural
beauties to be appreciated is not yet. Why, we do not even pay a
native half-a-crown a week to keep the caves free from the baboons and
bats that defile them. I am afraid, at present, Rhodesia lives almost
entirely for to-day," he continued. "The spirit ready to sacrifice
itself for the good of future generations has yet to be developed." He
was a clever-looking man, with quiet, thoughtful eyes, and he and
Meryl had talked much together during her short stay. "The nobility of
the bee is not found much among humans. In all the annals of the race,
is there anything to compare with their service to the coming swarm?"

"Only that we do not know it is the result of calm reasoning," she
answered. "The bee perhaps comes into existence, permeated through and
through with this one idea, and lives solely to fulfil it. The service
humanity asks of humanity is something even higher, surely--a
willing, conscious sacrifice of present ease to future good. The
spirit of heroes and fools"; and she smiled a little sadly,
remembering Ailsa Grenville's verse and her enthusiasm for the dear
Ship of Fools. "But you have some fine men out here," she added. "I
think your future looks exceedingly hopeful."

A few days later they started on their return to Bulawayo, and the
tour was practically ended. There was nothing more now but dusty
railway journeys and elegant garments and conventionalities.

"No more grubby hands and red faces and 'anyhow' clothes that did not
matter," was Diana's constant lament. Meryl said nothing. What was
there to say? But the pain that dwelt in her eyes sometimes, when she
thought no one was looking, sent deep stabs to her father's heart.
With all his money, and all his power and influence, what could he do
in this one thing that seemed to matter beyond all other things?
Nothing except to look quietly on, and hope the wound was not too deep
for healing. That, and to h