she added maliciously, over her shoulder.

"I can't think what you've done to that child, Elvesdon," remarked his
host, when they were sitting alone together on the stoep. "I never saw
her so lively before, or anything like it; certainly not since she was a
little girl. Yet you managed to `draw' her most effectually."

Elvesdon was human, and at this profuse anointment of his self-esteem he
mentally purred. Yet he did not know what the very deuce to answer. He
could not, for instance, tell his host that this sort of life must be
rather a monotonous one for a girl, and therefore anyone from outside,
he supposed would make a welcome change.

"I don't know how it was done," he said, with a deprecatory laugh.
"Your daughter evidently has very artistic instincts, Thornhill. I
can't say I have, but I've been a bit among people who cut in for that
sort of thing, and may have absorbed some of their jargon. I suppose
that is what interested her."

"Heard any more about that suspicious stranger I came over to tell you
about the other day?" said Thornhill, characteristically changing the
subject without any sort of prelude.

"Yes, I have. As you supposed, he's a Zulu from beyond the river, one
of Mehlo-ka-zulu's chief men. He's got no business at all in these
locations, but you know as well as I do that it's sometimes sound policy
to shut one eye. To interfere with him just now would do more harm than
good; the tax-collecting time is coming on, and the people want
smoothing down, not brushing up."

"That's so," said the other, knocking the ashes out of his pipe. "Oh he
belongs to Mehlo-ka-zulu does he? M'yes. Mehlo-ka-zulu's a fine fellow
but a bit of a firebrand. If anything went wrong here it wouldn't be
long before he had a finger in the pie. At least--so _I_ predict."

Thus they talked on, airing official matters even as Edala had declared
they would. Elvesdon for his part rejoiced at finding a man such as
this, right at his very door, so to say; from the well of whose
shrewdness and experience he could draw at will. Then they went round
to the stables, and soon the slant of the sunbeams told that the heat of
the day was passed.

"Well, are we ready for Sipazi? The sun is going off the valley, and we
shall have it splendidly cool."

They turned. Edala was looking fresh, and even, for her, rosy, after
her nap. Elvesdon almost started. This dash of colour was all that was
needed to render the face a