"Splendidly: that is, pretty well; and I'm glad you're back in time to prevent me from having the rottenest time I've ever had in my life. It's just short of that at present."
"What! Have those blackguards been bothering you?"
"Worse! Lions!"
"Oh! Is that it? I don't know that they're worse than the natives, though."
"Yes, they are, because it doesn't come to a fair stand-up fight. They're cowardly, skulking brutes, and so disgustingly clever."
John laughed at Ferrier's aggrieved tone and look.
"Well, I'll get a bath and a feed, and then we'll talk it over," he said. "I hope our people have behaved well?"
"Oh yes! Lulu has been a mother to me--at a distance, of course; and Said Mohammed has been a delight three times a day. But go and get your bath; you'll stand here talking for ever."
Half-an-hour later John, having changed into a suit of white drill, was sitting at table with Ferrier in the little dining-room of the bungalow. It struck him as rather bare and cold-looking after Mr. Gillespie's comfortable rooms, and he resolved, if things went well the second year, to buy a few bits of furniture.
"It wants a woman, you know," said Ferrier. "She'd rig up some curtains and make things look cheerful in no time. But you'll never get a woman to live among lions."