It was shortly after this incident that Ernest and Jeremy were seated together on the verandah of the same house at Pretoria where they had been living before they went on the elephant hunt, and which they had now purchased. Ernest had been in the garden, watering a cucumber-plant he was trying to develop from a very sickly seedling. Even if he only stopped a month in a place he would start a little garden; it was a habit of his. Presently he came back to the verandah, where Jeremy was as usual watching the battle of the red and black ants, which after several years’ encounter was not yet finally decided. “Curse that cucumber-plant!” said Ernest, emphatically, “it won’t grow. I tell you what it is, Jeremy, I am sick of this place; I vote we go away.” “For goodness’ sake, Ernest, let us have a little rest; you do rattle one about so in those confounded post-carts,” replied Jeremy, yawning. “I mean, go away from South Africa altogether.” “Oh,” said Jeremy, dragging his great frame into an upright position, “the deuce you do! And where do you want to go to—England?” “England! no, I have had enough of England. South America, I think. But perhaps you want to go home. It is not fair to keep dragging you all over the world.” “My dear fellow, I like it, I assure you. I have no wish to return to Mr. Cardus’s stool. For goodness’ sake don’t suggest such a thing; I should be wretched.” “Yes, but you ought to be doing something with your life. It is all very well for me, who am a poor devil of a waif and stray, to go on with this sort of existence, but I don’t see why you should; you should be making your way in the world.” “Wait a bit, my hearty!” said Jeremy, with his slow smile; “I am going to read you a statement of our financial affairs which I drew up last night. Considering that we have been doing nothing all this time except enjoy ourselves, and that all our investments have been made out of income, which no doubt your respected uncle fancies were dissipated, I do not think that the total is so bad. And Jeremy read: “Landed property in Natal and the Transvaal, estimated value . . . . . . £2500 This house . . . . . . . . . 940 Stocks—waggons, &c., say . . . . 300 Race-horses . . . . . . . . . ——– I have left that blank.” “Put them at 800_l._,” said Ernest, after thinking. “You know I won 500_l._ with Lady Mary on the Cape Town Plate last week.” Jeremy went on: “Race-horses and winnings . . . . £1300 Sundries—cash, balance,&c . . . . 180 ——– Total . . . . . . £5220 Now of this we have actually saved and invested about twenty-five hundred, the rest we have made or has accumulated. Now, I ask you, where could we have done better than that, as things go? So don’t talk to me about wasting my time.”