“But—but the people who cling on are—are so insufferable.” And it must be acknowledged a very real tear of disappointment stood in her eye. “Would you have liked some higher-sounding virtue?” “Yes; I thought you were going to say meekness and gentleness, or some of the great gifts of the spirit. I never read that ‘clinging on’ was counted much in the Book of Divine Inspiration. Besides, who have I been clinging on to? I deserted the Serpent just—” “Just at the right time. There is where the virtue comes. Had you been any earlier you would have shown great fickleness. Besides, after all, I don’t think you’re very heavy, Rosalie. You would not be such an insufferable load to drag along.” “I don’t know, I’m sure. But anyway, I’ll trust to you.” “Well now, whilst you stay with me there is much work to be done. But for to-day, until you become accustomed to your new surroundings, you may take holiday. To-morrow morning be up as early as to-day. After breakfast I will show you in what direction your work will lie.” After that she went away, and saw no more of him all day. It was an ideal holiday in the sun and warmth and beauty of the outdoor life. And for the noontide meal, Billy came and sat with her, though he only drank one glass of water whilst she ate. “Are you not hungry?” she asked. “Well, yes. I’m getting hungry, but it isn’t my meal-time yet. You’d be astonished if you saw the amount I eat compared with you,” and he laughed in the gayest, happiest tone. After a while he said: “Have you made friends with the frog yet?” “With whom?” “The frog. My father’s pet frog. It is in the garden, but is rather shy of strangers, but very talkative when once you get to know it.” “A frog? And it can talk?” “You bet! It has a better fund of words and style of oratory than many a statesman.” “Well, then, it should be a human being.” Billy looked at her, and his brilliant sparkling eyes were laughing. “Well, no, hardly that. It is quite contented to remain a frog—a very superior kind of frog.” “Do you come every day for lessons?” asked Rosalie, uncertain what to say. “Three times a week. And the other days I walk over in my spare time.” “Then you have not far to come?” “Not far, comparatively speaking. The distance lessens as one grows older, I find.” “Then it would be less to me than you?” Again he laughed. “Well, no; I expect I’ve had more practice than you. Good morning!” And he was gone, leaving Rosalie to ponder on that odd kind of powerful beauty in his face, and that exuberant merriness that made her sigh to lose him. For that was the worst of Billy. He seemed to come and go more like some brilliant spirit, a kind of Mercury, with winged heels, to bring one ray of sunshine, and then depart. CHAPTER XVII A PLANTATION