effect upon you, and I should have liked to sing on for ever. I wish you'd let me come and sing to you."
"But I am going away. And besides, I mightn't like you to have an effect upon me."
"That means that you are a little afraid of me. I know that; I can make people afraid of me."
"Can you really? How?"
"I don't quite know. By looking at them. I can always make a woman like me, if I want to. I don't often want to. I don't care about them."
"Perhaps that is why you make them like you. People can often influence others just from the very reason that they don't care about them."
"I don't think that reasoning ought to apply to you and me. Please don't be offended. I only meant that it would be impossible to look at you often and remain indifferent."
"In that case," said Elsie, "it would be better not to look at me."
"Much better," said Trant, seriously. "I quite agree with you. It would not suit my way of life to care too much for a woman."
"What is your way of life?" asked Elsie, interested in spite of herself.
Trant laughed in a sort of sotto voce way that he had. "You wouldn't understand it if I were to tell you."
"From the outside it wouldn't seem to be so mysterious," said Elsie, piqued—"living at Baròlin and looking after horses and cattle. I understand something about that."
The black boy came round with Mr. Trant's horse.
"Well, good-bye," he said in a lingering manner. "I am very glad to have met you." Elsie gave him her hand. The black boy grinned as Trant went down the log steps.
"I say," he said, "Ba'al you got him Mary belonging to you?"
"Ba'al,"[1] answered Trant.
"That Budgery[2] Mary," said the black boy, making a
