“Oh, no, you’re not afraid of his running away now; that’s one of the curious things in the case. And another is that you can trust him not to hurt anybody, although I have myself seen him try to do so. And how is it that he seems to understand what one says at one time and that the next moment one may say something to him of which he won’t take the least notice? And why does he make those dreadful noises, and yet be able to make you understand what he means? It doesn’t sound like a language that he talks at all; but is it?” Stelfox’s face had become a discreet blank. “Yes, it’s a foreign language, miss. One of the South African languages, I believe. You see, he was born and brought up in South Africa, and being as he is, not quite like other folks, he hasn’t been able to pick up English yet, but I manage to make him out, through being with him so much.” Chris smiled a little as she turned to go into the house. “Thank you very much for your explanation, Stelfox,” she said, “even though I know it isn’t true.” She thought she heard a dry chuckle behind her as she went up the steps. Chris was more excited than she had ever been before in her life. She did not quite understand the nature of the emotions which seemed to be waging war upon one another within her. Chris was going upstairs, when, as she passed the study door, it flew open as if by a spring, and disclosed Mr. Bradfield, looking rather ashamed of himself. He wanted to find out whether she had seen him at the barn-door, and he hoped she had not. Chris, on the other hand, was feeling both hurt and surprised at his having left her with the madman, instead of coming to her rescue. While she had laughed at her mother for thinking Mr. Bradfield must be honest because he was rough, she had herself on the same grounds, thought he must be courageous. “Well, what have you been doing with yourself this afternoon?” asked he, in a jocular tone, under which she thought she detected some uneasiness. “Since I saw you last, Mr. Bradfield?” asked Chris, demurely; “at the door of the barn?” “Yes, yes,” said he, hastily; “at least, since that, and before that--all the afternoon, I mean?” “First I worked in the Chinese-room, making the dresses for to-morrow night,” began Chris. “Oh! that tomfoolery,” interrupted Mr. Bradfield. “I wouldn’t have anything to do with it if I were you. Everything will go wrong, and all the blame will be put on to your shoulders. I know my gushing cousin--and her methods!” “I can’t get out of it now, even if I wanted to,” said she, rather ruefully. “I don’t feel myself that there will be much glory accruing to us from the entertainment.” “Glory? I should think not. I’m going to be miles away myself.” “Oh! Mr. Bradfield, do you mean that? They’ll all be dreadfully disappointed.” “Can’t help that. Business must be considered before _pleasure_, you know,” he added, drily.