‘There is no actual necessity for it,’ said Aymer. ‘It is false economy to the mid-day meal, which should be a light one, to confer upon it that improper dignity and position. I quite agree with Sparks, that the cares of the day should be over before one undertakes so serious a subject as dinner. If it occurs at mid-day how can any one foresee that he may not be dragged away from the cheerful board and subjected to exercise or anxiety of the most violent description? How _can_ any digestion so ill treated preserve its equanimity? and if one digests not, then is happiness fled for ever.’ ‘I feel a convert all over,’ said Ernest. ‘How capital this teal is; wherever did the cayenne come from?’ ‘Always carry some,’ answered Brandon; ‘it is like tea and tobacco, and bills of exchange, very portable. I like work’―here he slightly expanded his vast chest and raised his sinewy fore-arm―‘but I may add, with even less risk of being contradicted by my friends, that I appreciate comfort.’ ‘_That’s_ true; in fact nothing could be truer,’ assented Mr. Parklands; ‘as to the work, you can do two men’s share either at work, love, or fighting when you’re regularly cornered. You and I used to hunt better in couples when we were youngsters. Couldn’t lick us, eh, old man? Remember when we thrashed those five fellows with the store cattle that came ravaging through the run, and took the cattle from them?’ ‘We were boys then,’ answered Aymer with a grave smile, ‘now we’re men and magistrates both; such escapades don’t become us. But we had a few trifling adventures in the old days when we were taking up the Behar country.’ ‘That reminds me of the blacks,’ said Mr. Parklands; ‘they were awfully bad there. I’m leaving you a capital brace of niggers, Mr. Neuchamp, first-class hands with cattle. I forgot them when Brandon was making his unprincipled reduction; they’re worth fifty pounds each to any man.’ ‘You would have made a splendid Southerner, Sparks,’ said Brandon, who, dinner having been concluded, had withdrawn to the fireside and lighted a capacious richly-coloured meerschaum. ‘What an eye you could have had for the points of a good field hand, not to mention those of a likely Octoroon. You’re too fond of dealing, however, to have stuck properly to your hereditary bondsmen. I can fancy your swapping Uncle Tom, Aunt Chloe, and the rest of them for a gang of half-broken plantation hands, with a trotting horse thrown in for boot.’ ‘Well, I like variety, I own,’ confessed Sparks, ‘and can’t bear sticking to the same style of country and stock for ever. But human beings make some difference in the calculation, though I don’t know that _you_ go so far, if all tales are true.’ ‘What do you mean, Sparks?’ inquired Brandon, with a slightly roused intonation. ‘Well, all the country heard that you and Lorton shot them like crows when you took up Tthoondula, after they had hunted the Dawsons off it the year before.’