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"Good-bye. I am sorry you are going," he said, simply. "I want to know
you better."
"Do you?" she cried, with a sudden eagerness in her voice and manner.
Then, "No. You would be disappointed. I am not of your world. But you
shall see me again," she added, as if taking a new resolve. "We are
coming back on a big hunt, and you and your father are to join us. Won't
you?"
"Dad said we should," said the youth, smiling at the remembrance.
"And you?" she said, with a touch of impatience.
"If things can so arrange themselves--my work, I mean, and dad's."
"But, do you want to? Do you really want to?" she asked. "I wish I knew.
I hate not to understand people. You are hard to know. I don't know you.
But you will come?"
"I think so," said the young man. "Of course a fellow's work comes
first, you know."
"Work?" she cried. "Your work? Oh, your missionary work. Oh, yes, yes. I
should like to see you at it. Come, let us go."
Mr. Cornwall Brand they found in a fever of impatience. He had the
trip scheduled to a time table, and he hated to be forced to change his
plans.


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