d by no small
amount of curiosity. Of what did this household consist? he asked
himself. The other members of the family, for instance, what were they
like, he wondered? Like this girl--who had struck him as so unlike any
other girl he had ever seen? Like her father--who in his own way seemed
almost to stand unique? But beyond themselves there seemed to be nobody
else in the house at all.

The room he was ushered into was cool and shaded. It was got up with
innumerable knick-knacks. There were water-colour sketches on the
walls--and framed photographic portraits placed about on easels. There
was a piano, and other signs of feminine occupation. But nothing was
overdone. The furniture was light and not overcrowded, thoroughly
suitable to a hot climate. After the noontide glare outside, the room
struck him as cool and restful to a degree--refined, too; in short a
very perfect boudoir.

"Nice little room, isn't it?" said his host rejoining him, for he had
excused himself for a minute. "Yes, that portrait--that's my eldest
boy. Poor chap, he _was_ killed in the Matabele rising in '96. That
other's the second--I've only the two. He's away at the Rand; making
his fortune--as he thinks; fortunately he's got none to lose."

"What fine looking fellows," said Elvesdon. "By Jove they are."

The other smiled.

"That group there," he went on, "represents Edala in various stages of
growing up. You'll recognise the latest."

"Yes. It's a splendid likeness." The while he was thinking to himself,
"Edala! what an out-of-the-way name. Edala! Well, it fits its owner
anyway."

"I daresay you'd like a cold splash--we'll have dinner directly. Come
this way. You'll find everything in there," opening the door of a spare
room.

His host's voice almost made Elvesdon start, so wrapped up was he in his
new train of thought. It did not leave him, either, when he was
splashing his head and face in a basin of cold water. Truly this was a
strange beginning to his new term of office; for he had only been at
Kwabulazi a few days. Well, it was a good one anyhow.

On entering the dining-room he did not know whether to feel surprised or
not. Only three places were laid. There was no Mrs Thornhill then?
These two--father and daughter--were alone together.

But before they had got half through the meal Elvesdon became alive to
something. There was not that freedom and cordiality between the two,
that whole-souled intim