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gentle manner was a queer contrast to Waring’s caustic tones.

“He’s conceited enough as it is! There’ll be no holding him if he’s chosen for the Coast Team and allowed to go down to Wairiri for the Tournament.”

“He’s a good lad.”

“So you always say. Personally I think he’s a wild young rip. Drinking and gambling and...carrying on with that awful Mrs. Bentley...”

Holmes lifted his eyebrows at her with a little side glance at the children, who were both eagerly listening.

“Yes, I know he likes Mrs. Bentley,” said Biddy. “He gave her the silver cup Nigger won for jumping at the Sports.”

“Emily told us,” chirruped Jo.

“It’s quite time you youngsters were in bed,” said their father. “What about baths?”

“Oh, they can’t have them just after the enormous meal they’ve eaten.”

“Jo’ll have to wash her knees anyhow—they’re filthy.”

“They’re not filthy. It’s only clean mud—where I fell in the creek.”

Ann took them both off.

She could hear them chattering together from their beds in the next room as she sat before her writing-table in the twilight. The windows were still open to the garden, where the crickets shrilled, and the scent of the stocks and tobacco plants in the border came in to her. The moths came in too, clustering thickly