o trouble to me. If they could make the china plate once, and
could cause flowers to grow on it, it would surely be easy to make it
whole again. I did not know whether to laugh or cry or throw the pieces
at her."

"Look here, young woman," said John, taking the sinning girl by the arm
and leading her solemnly to the oven, which was opened to receive the
cake; "look here, if you let that cake burn while the _inkosikaas_ (lady
chieftain) is away, when I come back I will cram you into the oven to
burn with it. I cooked a girl like that in Natal last year, and when she
came out she was quite white!"

Bessie translated this fiendish threat, whereat the girl grinned from
ear to ear and murmured "_Koos_" (chief) in cheerful acquiescence. A
Kafir maid on a pleasant afternoon is not troubled by the prospect of
being baked at nightfall, which is a long way off, especially when it is
John Niel who threatened the baking. The natives about Mooifontein had
taken the measure of John's foot by this time with accuracy. His threats
were awful, but his performances were not great. Once, indeed, he was
forced to engage in a stand-up fight with a great fellow who thought
that he could be taken advantage of on this account, but after he had
succeeded in administering a sound hiding to that champion he was never
again troubled in this respect.

"Now," he said, "I think we have provided for the safety of your cake,
so come on."

"Thank you, Captain Niel," answered Bessie, looking at him in a
bewitching little way she well knew how to assume, "thank you, but I
think I had rather not go out walking." This was what she said, but her
eyes added, "I am offended with you; I want to have nothing to do with
you."

"Very well," said John; "then I suppose I must go alone," and he took up
his hat with the air of a martyr.

Bessie looked through the open kitchen door at the lights and shadows
that chased each other across the swelling bosom of the hill behind the
house.

"It certainly is very fine," she said; "are you going far?"

"No, only round the plantation."

"There are so many puff-adders down there, and I hate snakes," suggested
Bessie, by way of finding another excuse for not coming.

"Oh, I'll look after the puff-adders--come along."

"Well," she said at last, as she slowly unrolled her sleeves, which had
been tucked up during the cake-making, and hid her beautiful white
arms, "I will come, not because I want to come, but because yo