nd here seemed invariably to miss that particular
buck, Mr Earle for instance, and Stephanus Bosch, and, I was nearly
saying--father--"

"Oh don't, then," laughed Bayfield. "A prophet has no honour in his own
country. Keep up the tradition, Lyn."

"And, as for the Englishman, the one that came over here with the
Earles, why he missed it both barrels, and they drove it right over him
too."

"By the way, Lyn," said her father, "what was that Britisher's name?
I've clean forgotten."

"That's not strange, for you'll hardly believe it, but so have I."

"Um--ah--no, we won't believe it. A good-looking young fellow like
that!"

"Even then I've forgotten it. Yes, he was a nice-looking boy."

"Boy!" cried her father. "Why, the fellow must be a precious deal
nearer thirty than twenty."

"Well, and what's that but a boy?"

"Thanks awfully, Miss Bayfield," said Blachland. "The implication is
grateful and comforting to a battered fogey of a precious deal nearer
forty than thirty."

For answer the girl only laughed--that bright, whole-hearted laugh of
hers. It was a musical laugh too, full-throated, melodious. She and
her father's guest were great friends. Though now living somewhat of an
out-of-the-world life, she had been well-educated, and her tastes were
artistic. She drew and painted with no mean skill, and her musical
attainments were above the average. So far from feeling bored and
discontented with the comparative isolation of her lot, she had an
affection for the free and healthy conditions of her surroundings, the
beauties of which, moreover, her artistic temperament rendered her
capable of perceiving and appreciating. Then this stranger had come
into their life, and at first she had been inclined to stand somewhat in
awe of him. He was so much older than herself, and must have seen so
much; moreover, his quiet-mannered demeanour, and the life-worn look of
his firm dark countenance, seemed to cover a deal of character. But he
had entered so thoroughly and sympathetically into her tastes and
pursuits that the little feeling of shyness had worn off within the
first day, and now, after a fortnight, she had come to regard his
presence in their midst as a very great acquisition indeed.

"I say, Lyn," struck in her father. "Better take Blachland inside--yes,
and light up some logs in the fireplace. There's a sharp tinge in the
air after sundown, which isn't good for a man with up-country fever in
hi