Mr J.L.B. Matekoni exposed the pistons and the cylinders. Then, pausing, he looked over at the children.

“What is happening now, Rra?” called the girl. “Are you going to replace those rings there? What do they do? Are they important?”

Mr J.L.B. Matekoni looked at the boy. “You see, Puso? You see what I am doing?”

The boy smiled weakly.

“He is a drawing a picture in the oil,” said the apprentice. “He is drawing a house.”

The girl said: “May I come closer, Rra?” she said. “I will not get in the way.”

Mr J.L.B. Matekoni nodded and, after she had wheeled herself across, he pointed out to her where the trouble lay.

“You hold this for me,” he said. “There.”

She took the spanner, and held it firmly.

“Good,” he said. “Now you turn this one here. You see? Not too far. That’s right.”

He took the spanner from her and replaced it in his tray. Then he turned and looked at her. She was leaning forward in her chair, her eyes bright with interest. He knew that look; the expression of one who loves engines. It could not be faked; that younger apprentice, for example, did not have it, and that is why he would never be more than a mediocre mechanic. But this girl, this strange, serious child who had come into his life, had the makings of a mechanic. She had the art. He had never before seen it in a girl, but it was there. And why not? Mma Ramotswe had taught him that there is no reason why women should not do anything they wanted. She was undoubtedly right. People had assumed that private detectives would be men, but look at how well Mma Ramotswe had done. She had been able to use a woman’s powers of observation and a woman’s intuition to find out things that could well escape a man. So if a girl might aspire to becoming a detective, then why should she not aspire to entering the predominantly male world of cars and engines?

Motholeli raised her eyes, meeting his gaze, but still respectfully.

“You are not cross with me, Rra?” she said. “You do not think I am a nuisance?”

He reached forward and laid a hand gently on her arm.

“Of course I am not cross,” he said. “I am proud. I am proud that now I have a daughter who will be a great mechanic. Is that what you want? Am I right?”

She nodded modestly. “I have always loved engines,” she said. “I have always liked to look at them. I have loved to work with screwdrivers and spanners. But I have never had the chance to do anything.”