for a little while," she said. "Those two
pickannins are only of any use when I am looking after them. They
haven't even learnt to lay a table."

"Let me help you."

"No. Candidly, I don't want you. Be a good boy, Justin, and sit still
and rest after your walk. Oh, by the way--" And unlocking a cupboard,
she produced a bottle of whisky. "I was very forgetful. You'll like
something to drink after the said walk?"

"No, thanks. Really I don't."

"You don't? No wonder you've done no good prospecting. A prospector
who refuses a drink after a hot afternoon's exertion! Why, you haven't
learnt the rudiments of your craft yet. But you must want one, and so
I'll fix it up for you. There, say when--is that right?" she went on
brightly, holding out the glass. "Yes, I know what you are going to
say--of course it is, if I mixed it. You ought to be ashamed to utter
such a threadbare banality."

He took the glass from her hand, but set it down untasted. The
magnetism of her eyes had drawn him. It seemed to madden him, to sap
his very reason, to stir every fibre in his body.

"No," she said decidedly, deftly eluding the clasp in which he would
fain have imprisoned her again, and extending a warning hand. "No, not
again,--so soon," she added mentally. "Remember, I have not forgiven
you for that outrageous piece of impertinence, and don't know that I
shall either. I am wondering how you could have dared."

If ever there was a past mistress in the art of fooling the other sex,
assuredly Hermia Blachland might lay claim to that distinction.
Standing there in the doorway, flashing back a bright, half-teasing,
half-caressing look, which utterly belied the seeming sternness of her
words, the effect she produced was such as to turn him _instanter_ into
a most complete fool, because her thorough and subservient slave. Then
she went out.

We have said that one of the large circular huts within the enclosure
served the purpose of a kitchen, and hither she proceeded with the
exceedingly useful and unromantic object of getting supper ready. Yet,
standing there in the midst of stuffy and uninviting surroundings, as
she supervised the Mashuna boys and the frying of the antelope steaks,
even that prosaic occupation was not entirely devoid of romance
to-night; for somehow she found herself discharging it extra carefully,
for was it not for him?

"Now, Tickey, keep those goggle eyes of yours on what you're doing,
instead