Another year passed. The clearings at The Glade had been greatly enlarged; but clumps of bush had been judiciously left so as to preserve its sylvan appearance, the long operation of fencing in the whole property had been accomplished, and the number of horses, cattle, and sheep had so increased that the greater part were now sent to graze on Maori land, a small rate per head being paid to the natives. Mr. Atherton had come and gone many times, and had now almost completed his study of the botany of the island. Mr. Renshaw had altogether abandoned the management of the farm to Wilfrid, and devoted himself entirely to the collection of ferns, orchids, and other plants, receiving handsome cheques in return for the consignment sent to England by each vessel that sailed from Wellington or Napier. He had agents at each of these towns, who made arrangements with the stewards of the ships for taking care of the plants on their way home, their remuneration being dependent upon the state in which the consignment arrived in England. Settlers were now established on both sides of the river for miles above The Glade, and as among these were several who had been officers in the army, or professional men who had come out for the benefit of their families, there was now much cheerful society, and The Glade occupied the same leading position in that part of the settlement that Mr. Mitford's had done on the lower river when they first arrived. James Allen had now been a year married to the eldest of the Miss Mitfords. His brother had been decidedly refused by Marion when he proposed to her, much to the surprise of her father and mother, who had seen from the frequent visits of their neighbour during the past year how things were going with him, while Wilfrid had been quite indignant at her rejection of his friend. "Girls are extraordinary creatures," he said to his sister. "I had quite made up my mind for the last six months that you and Bob were going to make a match of it, and thought what a jolly thing it would be to have you settled next to us. I am sure I do not know what you want more. You have known him for three years. He is as steady as possible, and safe to get on well, and as nice a fellow as I know." "He is all that, Wilfrid, but you see I don't want to marry him. I like him very much in the same way you like him, but I don't like him well enough for that." "Oh, I suppose you want a wandering prince in disguise," Wilfrid grumbled. "That is the way with girls; they always want something that they cannot get." "My dear Wilfrid," Marion said with spirit, "when I take to lecturing you as to whom you are to marry it will be quite time for you to take to lecturing me; but until I do I cannot allow that you have any right in the matter." It was seldom indeed that brother and sister differed in opinion about anything, and seeing a tear in Marion's eye Wilfrid at once gave in and admitted himself to be wrong.