the rest. I think I may leave the putting up of the sliprails to Trant." He mounted again, and they rode together up to the house.
CHAPTER XIV.
"ARE WE ENEMIES?"
Baròlin was only a bachelors' house, and a bachelors' house of the roughest kind, as Trant and Blake impressed upon their guests. But there were things in it which one does not usually find in a bachelor's dwelling in the bush—notably a piano, which Lord Horace insisted on trying, while they were waiting for luncheon, and which he pronounced to be one of the best cottage pianos he had ever played on. Trant sang at Elsie's request—one of his passionate love-songs, which produced a sort of reflex emotion in several of the persons present—excepting perhaps Miss Garfit, who remarked that it was sweet; Miss Garfit had a trick of saying that things were "sweet," and the epithet was not quite in keeping with her robust personality. Then there were various odds and ends which betokened a more refined taste than one discovers as a rule among lone squatters—some fine bits of Eastern embroidery, a silver perfume sprinkler, two or three jewelled daggers, and so forth, which Lord Horace pounced upon.
"These are Algerian," he said. " My sister has got a lot of 'em. Fancy finding Algerian embroideries in an Australian hut!"
"I am sure," said Miss Garfit, "this is far too sweet a place to be called a hut. Have you really been in Algiers, Mr. Blake?"
Blake laughed. "Ask Trant. He was in a regiment of Irregulars. That's how he learned to speak French so well."
"And you?" said Elsie. "Was that where you learned to speak French?"
