irely without a
qualm lest John Ames should follow suit, and him she had more than begun
to like very much indeed. The roar of a truly demoniacal gong cut short
further discussion of the subject, by warning them that it was time to
go down and join the object of it at table. Him they found in an amused
state.

"Rather fun," he said. "Some fellow has been going for that most
cherished and firmly rooted institution, the great Cape fish-horn, in a
letter to the evening _Argus_. He doesn't see how a civilised community
at the end of the nineteenth century can tolerate their day and night
alike being made hideous by an unending procession of dirty Malays
blaring weirdly, wildly, deafeningly through a `yard of tin;' and, for
the matter of that, no more do I. Look, here it is"--handing the paper
across to Mrs Bateman.

The latter, like most high-featured people, was of censorious habit.
"Yes; it's amusing," she said. "But there are some people who are never
happy unless they are finding fault. I suppose even these poor Malays
must earn their living."

"No fear of their not doing that," rejoined Ames. "Why, they are the
most well-to-do crowd on this peninsula. I take it the writer's point
is they could earn it without making life intolerable to the world at
large."

At which remark, ever so faint a droop of the mouth-corners changed the
visage of a silent, middle-aged individual seated at an adjacent table;
but his back was towards them, and they couldn't see it. "Oh,
nonsense," retorted Mrs Bateman, breezily. "People who can't stand a
little noise ought to go and live by themselves on a desert island."

Here the droop on the lips of the silent one became a very pronounced
sneer. "A fool of a woman, answering according to her folly," he
thought.

"Let me see it," cried Nidia. "Yes; it is a good joke, and perfectly
true, too. I know I've wished that same hideous noise anywhere times
out of number. I quite agree--it is amazing how they tolerate it. I
wonder who the writer is. Positively I'd like to send him an anonymous
letter of cordial thanks."

This time the silent one laughed to himself, heartily and undisguisedly.

"Write it to the _Argus_ instead and agree with him; that'll do just as
well," said John Ames. "The fact of the matter is that the Malay vote
is a power just here, and it would be about as easy to uproot Table
Mountain itself as the diabolical snoek trumpet under discussion."

"No, I