exertion," he said to Piers. "Besides, I detest
hired animals, always did. I shall spend an intellectual morning
listening to the band."

"Hope you won't be bored, sir," said Piers.

"Your going or coming wouldn't affect that one way or another," responded
Sir Beverley.

Whereat Piers laughed and went his way.

He was curiously light-hearted again that morning. The soft Southern air
with its many perfumes exhilarated him like wine. The scent of the
orange-groves rose as incense to the sun.

The animal he rode danced a skittish side-step from time to time. It was
impossible to go with sober mien.

"It's a good land," said Crowther.

"Flowing with milk and honey," laughed Piers, with his eyes on the
olive-clothed slopes. "But there's no country like one's own, what?"

"No country like England, you mean," said Crowther.

"Of course I do, but I was too polite to say so."

"You needn't be polite to me," said Crowther with his slow smile. "And
England happens to be my country. I am as British--" he glanced at Piers'
dark face--"perhaps even a little more so--than you are."

"I plead guilty to an Italian grandmother," said Piers. "But you--I
thought you were Colonial."

"I am British born and bred," said Crowther.

"You?" Piers looked at him in surprise. "You don't belong to
Australia then?"

"Only by adoption. I was the son of an English parson. I was destined for
the Church myself for the first twenty years of my life." Crowther was
still smiling, but his eyes had left Piers; they scanned the horizon
contemplatively.

"Great Scott!" said Piers. "Lucky escape for you, what?"

"I didn't think so at the time," Crowther spoke thoughtfully, sitting
motionless in his saddle and gazing straight before him. "You see, I was
keen on the religious life. I was narrow in my views--I was astonishingly
narrow; but I was keen."

"Ye gods!" said Piers.

He looked at the square, strong figure incredulously. Somehow he could
not associate Crowther with any but a vigorous, outdoor existence.

"You would never have stuck to it," he said, after a moment. "You'd have
loathed the life."

"I don't think so," said Crowther, in his deliberate way, "though I admit
I probably shouldn't have expanded much. It wasn't easy to give it up at
the time."

"What made you do it?" asked Piers.

"Necessity. When my father died, my mother was left with a large family
and quite destitute. I was the eldest, and a sheep-farming uncle--a