-even that of her who was now beside me; that each day's
occupation would be sweetened and hallowed by the thought that we were
dwellers beneath the same roof--and then--and then--who could tell? Ah,
it was one of those periods that come to some of us at a time in our
lives when imagination is fresh, and heart and mind unseared by
shattered illusions, and the corroding gall of latter days not even so
much as suspected then.

"Hullo!" I exclaimed, catching sight of a third figure strolling beside
Brian and his father, "Who's that? Looks like Trask."

"Yes, it is," assented Beryl.

The appearance of the stranger seemed to mar the harmony of the
situation to my mind. I did not like Trask. He was one of those men
who, wherever they find themselves, never give any one a chance of
forgetting their presence; no, not even for a moment. When Trask
appeared at Gonya's Kloof--which, by the way, was the name of the
Mattersons' farm--why, there was no possibility of overlooking the fact,
for he simply monopolised the whole conversation. He was a man of about
my own height and build, and three or four years my senior, on the
strength of which, and of having about that amount of colonial
experience, he chose to assume towards my humble self a good-humouredly
contemptuous and patronising manner, which to me was insufferable. Not
infrequently, too, he would try his hand at making me a butt for his
exceedingly forced and laboured wit, which is a thing I don't take. He
was a neighbour of twelve miles or so, where he farmed--or was supposed
to farm--his own place, and was reputed well off. To crown his other
offences in my eyes, he was a bachelor, and was a precious deal too fond
of coming over to Gonya's Kloof on any or no pretext.

Turning from his greeting to the girls--a greeting to my mind dashed
with a perfectly unwarrantable tone of familiarity--he opened on me.

"Ha, Holt, getting more into the way of things now, I suppose? You'll
soon know your way about. Things take a little getting into at first--
ha-ha!"

This in a sort of bray, accompanied by a condescending expression.

Catching Brian's eye, I discerned a killing twinkle therein.

"Why, Trask," he said in his quiet way, "Holt's got into the way of
things about twice as quick as any imported man I ever knew."

"Yes. Twice as quick," repeated Beryl, in emphatic assent.

I fancy Trask didn't like this--he looked as if he didn't; but I did,
though of cours