of the highest kind. The power also of unflinching purpose—also not of the highest kind. This seemed to show itself when the man was singing. He began to interest her. He had only struck her before as being rather ill-bred.
"Where did you learn to sing French?" she asked, when he had finished.
She had gone to the piano.
"I learned French among French people," said Trant. "I thought you would like that song. It was sent out to me the other day. Do you understand it? Do you speak French?"
"No," said she perversely. "How do you expect an Australian girl to speak French? So you have travelled a great deal, Mr. Trant?"
"I wish you'd let me translate it to you," he said, not answering her question. "But I am quite sure that you understand it. I could tell that you did by your face."
"Sing something else," she replied—"something English, please."
This time he sang a rollicking drinking song. Lord Horace was delighted. "You must come over," he said. "We must practice some glees, and we'll let you have 'em at Tunimba next week, Hallett."
Frank had to come forward to explain that his sister-in-law had written or was about to write to Mr. Trant, to invite him to join the party.
"I think it is not unlikely that my partner Blake will be at Baròlin then," said Mr. Trant. "I had a telegram from him, as I told you at the Bean-tree to-day.
"Tell me about Mr. Blake," said Elsie, subsiding into a chair, and motioning Trant to her side in a way that irritated Hallett. She had put on her coquettish air, which meant that she scented a victim. "Why doesn't he ever come to the Luya?"
"He does come sometimes," answered Trant.
"But nobody has ever seen him. I feel a curiosity about Mr. Blake."
"What do you want to know about Blake?"
