ithout this the sun would turn us all to tinder,--crops, flowers,
beasts, and folk."

"Oh, indeed," said Staines. "Then it is a pity you have not built it
more scientifically. I must have a look at this."

"Ay do, sir, and advise us if you see anything wrong. But hark! it is
milking time. Come and see that." So she led the way to some sheds, and
there they found several cows being milked, each by a little calf and a
little Hottentot at the same time, and both fighting and jostling each
other for the udder. Now and then a young cow, unused to incongruous
twins, would kick impatiently at both animals and scatter them.

"That is their way," said Phoebe: "they have got it into their silly
Hottentot heads as kye won't yield their milk if the calf is taken away;
and it is no use arguing with 'em; they will have their own way; but
they are very trusty and honest, poor things. We soon found that out.
When we came here first it was in a hired wagon, and Hottentot drivers:
so when we came to settle I made ready for a bit of a wrangle. But my
maid Sophy, that is nurse now, and a great despiser of heathens, she
says, 'Don't you trouble; them nasty ignorant blacks never charges more
than their due.' 'I forgive 'em,' says I; 'I wish all white folk was as
nice.' However, I did give them a trifle over, for luck: and then they
got together and chattered something near the door, hand in hand. 'La,
Sophy,' says I, 'what is up now?' Says she, 'They are blessing of us.
Things is come to a pretty pass, for ignorant Muslinmen heathen to be
blessing Christian folk.' 'Well,' says I, 'it won't hurt us any.' 'I
don't know,' says she. 'I don't want the devil prayed over me.' So she
cocked that long nose of hers and followed it in a doors."

By this time they were near the house, and Phoebe was obliged to come to
her postscript, for the sake of which, believe me, she had uttered
every syllable of this varied chat. "Well, sir," said she, affecting to
proceed without any considerable change of topic, "and how do you find
yourself? Have you discovered the past?"

"I have, madam. I remember every leading incident of my life."

"And has it made you happier?" said Phoebe softly.

"No," said Christopher gravely. "Memory has brought me misery."

"I feared as much; for you have lost your fine color, and your eyes are
hollow, and lines on your poor brow that were not there before. Are you
not sorry you have discovered the past?"

"No, Mrs. Falcon. G