oft that it
occurred to John that Bessie's manner had grown rather strange of late.
It seemed to him that she had avoided his society instead of showing a
certain partiality for it, if not of courting it. Also, she had looked
pale and worried, and evinced a tendency to irritation that was quite
foreign to her natural sweetness of character. Now, when a person on
whom one is accustomed to depend for most of that social intercourse
and those pleasant little amenities which members of one sex value from
another, suddenly cuts off the supply without any apparent rhyme or
reason, it is enough to induce a feeling of wonder, not to say of
vexation, in the breast. It never occurred to John that the reason
might be that Bessie was truly fond of him, and perhaps unconsciously
disappointed that he did not show a warmer interest in her. If, however,
we were to examine into the facts of the case we should probably
discover that here was the real explanation of this change. Bessie was
a straightforward young person, whose mind and purposes were as clear
as running water. She was vexed with John--though she would probably not
have owned it even to herself in so many words--and her manner reflected
the condition of her mind.

"Bessie," said John one lovely day, just as the afternoon was merging
into evening, "Bessie"--he always called her Bessie now--"I am going
down to the black wattle plantation by the big mealie patch. I want to
see how those young trees are doing. If you have done your cooking"--for
she had been engaged in making a cake, as young ladies, to their souls'
health, often have to do in the Colonies--"I wish you would put on your
hat and come with me. I don't believe that you have been out to-day."

"Thank you, Captain Niel, I don't think that I want to come out."

"Why not?" he said.

"Oh, I don't know--because there is too much to do. If I go out that
stupid girl will burn the cake," and she pointed to a Kafir _intombi_
(young girl), who, arrayed in a blue smock, a sweet smile, and a feather
stuck in her wool, was vigorously employed in staring at the flies on
the ceiling and sucking her black fingers. "Really," she added with a
little stamp, "one needs the patience of an angel to put up with that
idiot's stupidity. Yesterday she smashed the biggest dinner-dish and
then brought me the pieces with a broad grin on her face and asked me
to 'make them one' again. The white people were so clever, she said, it
would be n