“I have no idea what you mean,” she said, surprised at the portentous tone. She was not a bit afraid of him, though he was so little in sympathy with her youth, so apparently in antagonism to her. “What would you say to a man?” he asked cunningly. “It would depend, uncle,” she said readily and cheerfully, though a sudden apprehension smote her at the heart. “It would depend on what he said to me first.” The old man grinned callously as the only person in the secret. “Suppose he said: ‘Come away home, wife, I’ve paid a bonny penny for ye’?” “Perhaps I would say, if I was in very good humour at the time, ‘You’ve got a bonny wife for your bonny penny.’ More likely I would be throwing something at him, for I have my Uncle Jamie’s temper they say, but I’m nobody’s wife, and for want of the asking I’m not likely to be.” “Well, we’ll see,” said the uncle oracularly. Then abruptly, “Have you heard that your father’s got an appointment?” “I--I heard just a hint of it, of course he has not told me all about it yet,” she answered with a readiness that surprised herself when she reflected on it later, for the news now so unexpectedly given her in the momentary irritation of the old man was news indeed, and though she was unwilling to let him see that it was so, a tremendous oppression seized her; now she was to be lonely indeed. Half uttering her thoughts she said, “I’ll sooner go with him than stay here and----” “Oh, there’s no going yonder,” said the uncle. “Sierra Leone is not a healthy clime for men, let alone for women. That’s where the man comes in. He could hardly leave you alone to stravaige about the hills there with all sorts of people from Glen Aray.” “The white man’s grave!” said she, appalled. “Ay!” said he, “but he’s no ordinary white man; he’s of good stock.” “And--and--he has found a man for me,” she said bitterly. “Could I not be left to find one for myself?” Her uncle laughed his hoarse rude laugh again, and still combed his tangled beard. “Not to his fancy,” he answered. “It’s not every one who would suit.” He smiled grimly--a wicked elder man. “It’s not every one would suit,” he repeated--as if he was anxious to let the full significance of what he meant sink to her understanding. And he combed his rough beard with large-jointed knotted fingers, and looked from under his heavy eyebrows. “Seeing the business is so commercial,” said she, “I’m sure that between the two of you you will make a good bargain. I am not sure but I might be glad to be anywhere out of this if father’s gone and I not with him.” She said it with outer equanimity, and unable to face him a moment longer without betraying her shame and indignation, she left him and went to the corn-field where Black Duncan was working alone.