On that morning he stood some time in the doorway switching his whip, and
moving rather restlessly from one leg to the other.

"I think I'll just take a walk up to the camps and see how your birds are
getting on. Now Waldo's gone you've no one to see after things. Nice
morning, isn't it?" Then he added suddenly, "I'll just go round to the
house and get a drink of water first;" and somewhat awkwardly walked off.
He might have found water in the kitchen, but he never glanced toward the
buckets. In the front room a monkey and two tumblers stood on the centre-
table; but he merely looked round, peeped into the parlour, looked round
again, and then walked out at the front door, and found himself again at
the storeroom without having satisfied his thirst. "Awfully nice morning
this," he said, trying to pose himself in a graceful and indifferent
attitude against the door. "It isn't hot and it isn't cold. It's awfully
nice."

"Yes," said Em.

"Your cousin, now," said Gregory in an aimless sort of way--"I suppose
she's shut up in her room writing letters."

"No," said Em.

"Gone for a drive, I expect? Nice morning for a drive."

"No."

"Gone to see the ostriches, I suppose?"

"No." After a little silence Em added, "I saw her go by the kraals to the