d--about hunting and trading, and Lo Bengula, and
experiences among savages far wilder and more formidable than their own
half-civilised and wholly deteriorated Kaffirs. But he was sharp enough
to notice that at other times the subject of "up-country" was not a
favourite one with Blachland. Perhaps the latter was tired of it as he
had had so much. At any rate, with a gumption rare in small boys of his
age, Fred forbore to worry the topic further.

This was one of those evenings which the said guest was wont to prize
now, and was destined in the time to come to look back upon as among the
very happiest experiences of his life. He regarded his host indeed with
a whole-hearted envy, that such should be his daily portion. There was
just enough sharpness in the atmosphere to render indoors and a bright,
snug fire in a well-lighted room especially reposeful and cosy, as they
adjourned to the sitting-room where Lyn's piano was.

"Fill up, Blachland," said his host, pushing over a large bladder
tobacco-pouch. "Where's my pipe? No--not that one. The deep one with
the wire cover."

"I've got it, father," cried Lyn. "I'm filling it for you."

"Thanks, darling," as she brought it over. "You know, Blachland, my
after-supper pipe never tastes so good unless this little girlie fills
it for me. She's done so ever since she was a wee kiddie so high."

Blachland smiled to himself, rather sadly, as he watched the long
tapering fingers pressing down the tobacco into the bowl, and wondered
how his friend would feel when the time came--and come it must, indeed
any day might bring it--when he would have no one to render this and a
hundred and one other little services of love, such as he had noticed
during his stay--when Bayfield should be left lonely, and the bright and
sweet and sunny presence which irradiated this simple home should be
transferred to another. Somehow the thought was distasteful to him,
vaguely, indefinably so, but still distasteful.

Meanwhile Lyn had opened the piano, and after an appeal to them for any
preference in the way of songs, which was met by an assurance that any
and all were equally acceptable, had begun singing. The two men sat
back in their armchairs at the further end of the room, listening in
supremest content. From the first Blachland had excused himself from
attending her at the piano. He wanted thoroughly to enjoy her
performance, which he could not do standing fussing around, and Lyn