“So you’ve ridden over to show them the way, Aileen,” he said, as the girls came in; “very good of you it was. I was afraid you’d forgotten the way.”

“I never forget the way to a friend’s place, George,” she said, “and you’ve been our best friend while these naughty boys have left mother and me so long by ourselves. But you’ve been away yourself.”

“Only four months,” he said; “and after a few more trips I shan’t want to go away any more.”

“That will be a good day for all of us,” she said. “You know, Gracey, we can’t do without George, can we? I felt quite deserted, I can tell you.”

“He wouldn’t have gone away at all if you’d held up your little finger, you know that, you hard-hearted girl,” said Grace, trying to frown. “It’s all your fault.”

“Oh! I couldn’t interfere with Mr. Storefield’s business,” said Aileen, looking very grave. “What kind of a country was it you were out in?”

“Not a bad place for sheep and cattle and blacks,” said poor George, looking rather glum; “and not a bad country to make money or do anything but live in, but that hot and dry and full of flies and mosquitoes that I’d sooner live on a pound a week down here than take a good station as a present there. That is, if I was contented,” he went on to say, with a sort of a groan.

There never was a greater mistake in the world, I believe, than for a man to let a woman know how much he cares for her. It’s right enough if she’s made up her mind to take him, no odds what happens. But if there’s any half-and-half feeling in her mind about him, and she’s uncertain and doubtful whether she likes him well enough, all this down-on-your-knees business works against you, more than your worst enemy could do. I didn’t know so much about it then. I’ve found it out since, worse luck. And I really believe if George had had the savey to crack himself up a little, and say he’d met a nice girl or two in the hack country and hid his hand, Aileen would have made it up with him that very Christmas, and been a happy woman all her life.