my principles,' she said. 'I've
given up lots of things. I'm much more particular.' Something
roused Julian. He spoke masterfully.

'Just this once,' he said, 'Let me know to-night. I may know of
something gilt-edged that I won't keep to myself if I hear to-night
without fail. No, I won't be refused. I want proof of good-will.'

It was a sunny afternoon, with none of that southeast wind which
is the bane of our winter. Julian told his coachman to drive him
up to his new farm. The homestead was about five miles out of
town in the Mount Pleasant direction.

Julian drew out the draft of the prospectus, and began to work
hard at its revision. They had stopped at the house ere he thrust
pencil and paper into his pocket. He stepped out of El Dorado let
himself down, not without a jar, on to more humdrum earth.

The farm-house was an iron shanty newly hammered together. The
bailiff a full-bearded Colonial stood in the front doorway.
Julian gave him a perfunctory handshake. He talked farming
business to him quickly. He was tired, and eager to be through
with it.

They were almost through with it in half an hour. They smoked
their pipes and had coffee on the stoep together.

'About that Mission Church,' said the Bailiff, 'You know the
notice is just up that you gave them last year. The boy that used
to teach there is gone, and the kraal's moving. The building
still stands empty. They don't use it now.'

Julian frowned.

'Let's have a look at it,' he said. 'We can drive round that way
when Bob's inspanned. Meanwhile let's have a drink.'

The Church was very small wattle and daub. It had done three
years' service.

'No value,' pronounced Julian. He was rather angry with such a
mere shed for wasting his valuable time.

'That grass wants burning,' he muttered. 'If you set a light to
it and the Church catches, I shouldn't think there'll be any harm
done.'

'Right,' said the bailiff. Julian stepped inside the building.

'Nothing left,' he said. 'Nothing but this box. You'd better keep
it. They can have it if they send for it.'

'What's inside?'

There were some red and black candlesticks and vases packed away
in the box works of art in their way, but that way was not
Julian's.

'Cheap and nasty,' was his comment. 'Ah! What's that?'

'It was on the Communion Table,' said the bailiff.

Julian took up a clay cross and regarded it curiously.

'A cross with a snake on it!' he exclaimed.

'One of the boys said i