it; and us in a fright for fear he would find it, but he did n't. Then when we seen him well out of sight, I went over to the stack quietly, to shoo the pig home, but it was gone; and there was no sign of fire then, and nobody in sight. Then my sisters and me was just starting out to the milking-yard, and mother had begun to take the things off the line, when little Enoch seen the fire. We could n't make it out at all; and I examined up and down the drain for boot-marks, but there was none. And just before you come, I picked up the track of the horse I was riding, to see if his feet had struck fire on anything; but I was as wise as ever."
"Ah! the horse was shod, Miss Q?"
"No; he's barefooted all round. Well, he trod on a piece of a brick, near the corner of the garden; but the fire never travelled from there. It's very unaccountable."
"Very. I wonder would there have been such a thing as a broken bottle anywhere about the stack, Miss Q? The sun came out unusually strong this morning, I noticed; and it's a well-known scientific fact that the action of the solar rays, focussed by such a medium as I have suggested, will produce ignition—provided, of course, that the inflammable material is in the angle of refraction."
"I don't know, sir," she replied reverently.
"Why, gold has been melted in four seconds, silver in three, and steel in ten, under the mere influence of the sun's heat-rays, concentrated by a lens"—she shivered, and I magnanimously withheld my hand. "If this hypothesis should prove untenable," I continued gently, "we may assume spontaneous ignition, produced by chemical combination. Nor are we confined to this supposition. Silex is an element which enters largely into the composition of wheaten straw; and it is worthy of remark that, in most cases where fire is purposely generated by the agency of thermo-dynamics, some form of silex is enlisted—flint, for instance, or the silicious covering of endogenous plants, such as bamboo, and so forth. A theory might be built on this."
"It seems very reasonable, sir," she murmured. "Anyway, I'm glad the old stack's out of the road. The place looks a lot cleaner."
"Well, I won't keep you out in the sun," said I reluctantly. "Good bye, Miss Q. And I'm very much obliged to you."
"Oh, don't mention it! I'm sure we're very happy to"she hesitated, blushing desperately.
"Well, good-bye, Miss Jemima."
"Good-bye," she murmured, half-extending her hand.
"I might see you again, some time," I remarked, almost unconsciously, as our fingers met.
"I hope so," she faltered.
"Good-bye, Jim," said I, slowly releasing her hand.
"Good-bye." The word sounded like a breath of evening air, kissing the she-oak foliage.
Then the maiden with the meek brown eyes, and the pathetic evidence of Australian nationality on her upper lip, returned to her simple duties.
