Mma Ramotswe did not reply. She could only imagine the price of such a chair, and she wondered what had possessed Mr J.L.B. Matekoni to buy it. Well, they could talk about it later, when he came back. He could explain himself then.

She turned to Mma Potokwane and noticed that her friend was studying her, watching her reaction. “I’m sorry,” said Mma Ramotswe. “It’s just that he did not consult me. He does that sort of thing from time to time. It is a very expensive chair.”

“Don’t be hard on him,” said Mma Potokwane. “He is a very good man. And doesn’t he deserve a comfortable chair? Doesn’t he deserve a comfortable chair after all that hard work?”

Mma Ramotswe sat down. It was true. If Mr J.L.B. Matekoni wanted a comfortable chair, then surely he was entitled to one. She looked at her friend. Perhaps she had been too hard in her judgement of Mma Potokwane; here she was selflessly supporting Mr J.L.B. Matekoni, praising his hard work. She was a considerate woman.

“Yes,” said Mma Ramotswe. “You are right, Mma Potokwane. Mr J.L.B. Matekoni has been using an old chair for a long time. He deserves a new chair. You are quite right.”

There was a brief silence. Then Mma Potokwane spoke. “In that case,” she said, “do you think that you could give his old chair to the orphan farm? We would be able to use a chair like that. It would be very kind of you to do that, Mma, now that you no longer need it.”

There was very little that Mma Ramotswe could do but agree, although she reflected, ruefully, that once again the matron had managed to get something out of her. Well, it was for the orphans’ sake, and that, she felt, was the best cause of all. So she sighed, just very slightly, but enough for Mma Potokwane to hear, and agreed. Then she offered to pour Mma Potokwane a further cup of tea, and the offer was quickly accepted.

“I have some cake here,” said Mma Potokwane, reaching for the bag she had placed at her feet. “I thought that you might like a piece.”

She opened the bag and took out a large parcel of cake, carefully wrapped in greaseproof paper. Mma Ramotswe watched intently as her visitor sliced the slab into two generous portions and laid them on the table, two pieces of paper acting as plates.

“That’s very kind of you, Mma,” said Mma Ramotswe. “But I think that I’m going to have to say no thank you. You see, I am on a diet now.”