he wall. He eyed it, gloomily. Just
then a door opened, and to the accompaniment of a clatter of plates and
things his Hottentot cook entered, bearing a tray. At her Wyvern
glanced resentfully.

"I don't want that stuff," he said. "Take it away again."

"_Oh, goeije_! and it is the Baas' dinner," exclaimed the old woman.

"I don't want any dinner," was the weary answer. "I'll have a smoke
instead. Do you hear, Sanna. Get away with it."

"Not want any dinner! Have a smoke instead!" echoed old Sanna. "And
the Baas has eaten nothing since breakfast and very little then. _Nouw
ja_! it is wasting the gifts of the good God! And this is a
guinea-fowl, too, and partridge--stewed guinea-fowl and partridge, the
dish the Baas likes best. And now the Baas says take it away."

"Yes. Take it away, old Sanna. I can't eat."

Muttering, she turned and withdrew. Wyvern, suddenly realising that he
might have hurt the poor old creature's feelings, was about to recall
her, when a sound struck upon his ear. It was that of the hoof-strokes
of a ridden horse. The dogs outside greeted it with frenzied clamour.

Wyvern frowned. The sound was an unwelcome one, for it probably meant
someone who was going to make use of his place for an hour's off-saddle,
and who, in his then vein, would most certainly bore the life out of
him.

He went out on the stoep. The hoof-strokes had ceased, so had the
canine clamour. He went down the steps and when about to turn the
corner of the house an advancing figure did so at the same time, with
such suddenness that both nearly collided. It was that of a girl. Both
started--he with an exclamation of delighted astonishment. Then without
more ado, the newcomer put both her hands upon his shoulders and kissed
him, and, tall as he was, she had not to reach up over much in the
process either. She was the original of the portrait which occupied the
place of honour within.

"Lalante! My own one, how sweet of you to give me this surprise," he
murmured, releasing her from the long, close embrace which had followed
immediately upon the first amenity. "Are you alone?"

"Yes. There'd have been no fun in bringing a crowd."

"Well, sit down inside and rest while I see to your horse. Hitched to
the gate, I suppose?"

"Yes. For the other I'm not going to obey. I'll go with you. Do you
want to be away from me for the first ten minutes I'm here?"

"Do I, indeed? Come along, then."

They