‘Tell me how you employ yourself all day long at Paradise Farm, Miss Leyton,’ replied Lovell, taking the cue. ‘Oh, there are no end of things to be done! The day is not half long enough. I help mother in the house during the mornings, and in the afternoons I ride or drive or garden, according to the weather.’ ‘Or pay horrid social calls,’ suggested the captain. ‘Not often--that is, in up-country stations. The distances are too great. The nearest dwelling-house to ours is ten miles off. But we drive to the town sometimes, and to afternoon dances and teas.’ ‘And in the evenings?’ ‘We read books or do crewel work, and go to bed at ten.’ ‘Whew!’ said Lovell, giving a long, low whistle; ‘what an awful existence!’ ‘Don’t try it, then,’ returned Alice archly; ‘for everybody does the same. We rise at four or five, have dinner at one (and it usually consists of mutton in every shape and form), tea at six, and all lights out at ten. You will soon fall into the custom, and begin yawning at nine o’clock.’ ‘But what work can such little hands as yours do?’ ‘Everything! There are very few servants in New Zealand, and the squatters’ wives and daughters do all the cooking, washing, and cleaning themselves. Sometimes I saddle father’s horse or my own, and if he is busy, I chop up wood for the fire, and draw the water for the use of the house.’ ‘I cannot believe it. You are joking with me! Such work is not fit for such a delicate creature as you are,’ said Lovell, looking genuinely distressed. ‘Indeed, I am not delicate; and if I were, I would help my parents all in my power. I shall always work for them whilst I am at home.’ ‘I hope you will not be at home long, my darling,’ whispered her lover. ‘If not, I shall work in the house I go to,’ whispered Alice, in return. ‘Not while I have a hand to do it for you,’ said Lovell. ‘Alice! if you will consent to come and brighten my poor home with the sunshine of your presence, you must promise to leave the hard work to some one else.’ ‘I will promise to do exactly as you tell me, Robert,’ she answered; ‘but I’m afraid we are attracting attention, and it must be nearly time for luncheon. Here comes Mr and Miss Vansittart. Let me go back to mother! I feel as if everybody must guess what we have been talking of, from my face.’ ‘Little goose--’ said Lovell fondly, as he handed her down the companion. Mr Vansittart was talking so seriously to his daughter, that they had not even noticed the presence of the lovers. ‘Gracie, my dear,’ he had commenced by saying, ‘I wants to have a little chat with you about Mr Harland. You two seem to be taking up with one another, to my mind, and so I think it right to warn you before it goes too far.’ ‘To _warn_ me, papa?’ said Grace, with open eyes. ‘Of _what_?’