Honor looked across at her sister with a show of faint surprise. "I was interested in watching Mr Matheson's appreciation," she said. "Mr Matheson will not find much to appreciate on the Karroo at this dry season," Freidja returned. "My! there's nothing but burnt scrub to be seen. Don't you wonder," she asked, turning towards him, "how anything grows here?" "I admit," he replied, "that it occurs to me to doubt whether results justify the outlay. You are up against pretty well everything, aren't you? Farming in this country must entail endless labour." "We do fairly well with ostriches," Krige interposed. "If you care about it, I will show you our birds. I am making a speciality of the new breed, the feathers of which have a natural curl. They are very handsome." "Thanks; it will interest me immensely," Matheson said. "Besides, there is the well. I am to look at that to-day." "Andreas," Mrs Krige remonstrated, "we must not trespass too much on Mr Matheson's good nature. I think he will be glad to rest a little. There are other days." Her words, seeming to imply an acceptance of his continued presence on the farm, pleased Matheson. He was very ready to stay as long as they were willing to entertain him. Krige had not yet referred to the purpose of his visit; he had made no mention of the letter which he was to carry away. Matheson was undecided whether there was a motive in his reticence, or whether he took it for granted that he was in Holman's confidence and therefore in no need of enlightenment. In response to his mother's remark Krige simply said: "The well will keep till another time." He did not after that make any observation unless directly appealed to, but despatched his breakfast in grave preoccupation, and left the table before the rest. Mrs Krige turned her face to look after him as he went out through the window; and Matheson was struck by the light of affection which shone in her eyes as they followed the tall figure till it disappeared from view. "He works so hard. There is no one to help him," she said, and sighed. "He is interested in his work," Freidja put in quickly. "As for hard work, every one works hard on a farm." Involuntarily her glance travelled in her sister's direction. How did Honor purpose making beds and helping with the dinner in that frock? Honor proceeded leisurely with her breakfast, as though work were the last thing to concern her. It did not concern her for the immediate present. With the finish of breakfast the visitor must be disposed of; he would sit in the garden in the shade of the pepper trees--her mother would see to that; then she would slip out of her clean frock and get through the morning's work and dress again. It was quite simple, entailing merely a little additional trouble. Honor did not object to trouble of that nature, and visitors were rare.