"What is that?"
"That you take me to Baròlin Waterfall."
"I am afraid that you will find it a rougher expedition than you bargain for. It will mean a night's camping out."
"So much the better. I have never camped out in my life. Promise."
"I promise, if not now, at some future time."
"Why not now?"
"The river is up, you know, and then it's very difficult to get a black boy who will go near the Falls, But I will do my best. Do you think there is anything in the world I wouldn't try to do if you asked me?"
Elsie's eyes were like stars as she turned them upon him.
It was a way of hers to answer a question with her eyes. But presently she said thoughtfully, "I don't know."
"What is it that you don't know?" he asked: "Don't you know that I would do anything in the world for you?"
"Without any reward?" she said coquettishly.
"There would always be the hope of a reward—the hope"
"Ah!" she exclaimed, cutting him short. "You are not disinterested. No one is. There is always the hope of a reward. I am tired of it all."
She moved away from the verandah post as she spoke, and tossed the sprig of stephanotis from her. It fell on the edge of the steps, and he stooped and picked it up. She sat down on a squatter's chair at the end of the verandah furthest from the drawing-room. The other men had come out of the dining-room. Mr. Trant was talking to Lady Horace. Lord Horace came to the door and called out "Elsie."
"Well?"
"Come along in. Let us do Sharp's chorus. Trant says he has got a voice."
"Trant! I wish Horace wouldn't let him be so familiar," murmured Elsie sotto voce, "Please ask Mr. Trant to try a solo. I can't sing choruses so soon after dinner."
