Part 28 (1/2)

”Oh, I don't judge you at all, old chap, so don't run away with that idea. We ain't any of us silver-gilt saints if the truth were known, or if we are, it's generally for want of opportunity to become the other thing, at any rate, that's my belief. And Lyn likes you so much, Blachland, and her instinct's never at fault.”

”G.o.d bless her!” was the fervent reply. ”I don't wonder, Bayfield, that you almost wors.h.i.+p that child. I know if she were my child I should rather more than entirely.”

”Would you?” said the other, his whole face softening. ”Well, that's about what I do. Come along up to the house, Blachland, and let's forget all about this rotten affair. I'll take jolly good care I keep it away from her by hook or by crook, anyhow. It's a beastly bore you've got to clear to-morrow, but you know your own business best, and it never does to let business slide. You'll roll up again next time you're down this way of course. I say though, you mustn't go getting any more fever.”

As a matter of fact, Blachland's presence was no more needed up-country, either in his own interests or anybody else's, than was that of the Shah of Persia. But, it would simplify matters to leave then, besides affording Bayfield a freer hand: and for another thing, it would enable him to make sure of getting his young kinsman out of the toils.

Something of a gloom lay upon that household of three that evening, by reason of the impending departure of this one who had been so long an inmate in their midst, and had identified himself so completely with their daily life.

”Mr Blachland, but I wish I was big enough to go with you,” announced small Fred. ”Man, but I'd like to see those Matabele chaps, and have a shot at a lion.”

”Some day, when you are big enough, perhaps you shall, Fred. And, look here, when your father thinks you are big enough to begin to shoot--and that'll be pretty soon now--I'm to give you your first gun. That's a bargain, eh, Bayfield?”

”_Magtig_! but you're spoiling the nipper, Blachland,” was the reply.

”You're a lucky chap, Fred, I can tell you.”

Somehow, Lyn was not in prime voice for the old songs in the course of the evening, in fact she shut down the concert with suspicious abruptness. When it became time to say good night, she thrust into Blachland's hand a small, flat, oblong packet:

”A few of my poor little drawings,” she said, rather shyly. ”You said you would like to have one or two, and these will remind you perhaps a little of old Lannercost, when you are far away.”

”Why, Lyn, how awfully good of you. I can't tell you how I shall value them. They will seem to bring back all the good times we have had together here. And, now, good night. I suppose it's good-bye too.”

”Oh no, it isn't. I shall be up to see you off.”

”But think what an unG.o.dly hour I'm going to start at.”

”That doesn't matter. Of course I'm going to see you off.”

”Why, rather,” struck in small Fred.

Morning dawned, frosty and clear, and the intending traveller appreciated the thick warmth of his heavy ulster to the full, as he prepared to mount to the seat of Bayfield's buggy, beside the native boy who was to bring back the vehicle after depositing him at the district town, nearly fifty miles away. There was no apparent gloom about the trio now. They were there to give him a cheery send off.

”Well, good-bye, old chap,” cried Bayfield, as they gripped hands. ”I think there's everything in the buggy you'll want on the way.”

”Good-bye, Bayfield, old pal,” was the hearty reply. ”Good-bye, Lyn,”

holding the girl's hands in both of his, and gazing down affectionately into the sweet, pure face. ”G.o.d bless you, child, and don't forget your true and sincere old friend in too great a hurry. Fred--good-bye, old chappie.” And he climbed into his seat and was gone.

The trio stood looking after the receding vehicle until it disappeared over the roll of the hill--waving an occasional hat or a handkerchief as its occupant looked back. Then Fred broke forth:

”Man--Lyn, but Mr Blachland's a fine chap! _Tis waar_, I'm sorry he's gone--ain't you?”

He had pretty well voiced the general sense. They felt somehow, that a vacant place had been set up in their midst.

Later that morning Bayfield chanced to return to the house from his work outside. It seemed empty. Small Fred was away at the bottom of the garden with a catapult, keeping down the swarming numbers of predatory mouse-birds and the wilier spreuw. But where was Lyn? Just then a sound striking upon the silence brought him to a standstill, amazement and consternation personified, so utterly strange and unwonted was such a sound in that household, and it proceeded from the girl's room.

Gently, noiselessly, he opened the door.