“Too much room,” said Mma Potokwane. “There will be room for children.”

Mr J.L.B. Matekoni frowned. “We had not been thinking of that. We are maybe a bit old for children. I am forty-five. And then … Well, I do not like to talk about it, but Mma Ramotswe has told me that she cannot have children. She had a baby, you know, but it died and now the doctors have said to her that …”

Mma Potokwane shook her head. “That is very sad. I am very sad for her.”

“But we are very happy,” said Mr J.L.B. Matekoni. “Even if we do not have children.”

Mma Potokwane reached over to the teapot and poured her guest another cup of tea. Then she cut a further slice of cake—a generous helping—and slid it onto his plate.

“Of course, there is always adoption,” she said, watching him as she spoke. “Or you could always just look after a child if you didn’t want to adopt. You could take …” She paused, raising her teacup to her lips. “You could always take an orphan.” Adding hurriedly: “Or even a couple of orphans.”

Mr J.L.B. Matekoni stared at his shoes. “I don’t know. I don’t think I would like to adopt a child. But …”

“But a child could come and live with you. There’s no need to go to all the trouble of adoption papers and magistrates,” said Mma Potokwane. “Imagine how nice that would be!”

“Maybe … I don’t know. Children are a big responsibility.”

Mma Potokwane laughed. “But you’re a man who takes responsibility easily. There you are with your garage, that’s a responsibility. And those apprentices of yours. They’re a responsibility too, aren’t they? You are well used to responsibility.” Mr J.L.B. Matekoni thought of his apprentices. They, too, had just appeared, sidling into the garage shortly after he had telephoned the technical trades college and offered to give two apprenticeships. He had entertained great hopes of them, but had been disappointed virtually from the beginning. When he was their age he had been full of ambition, but they seemed to take everything for granted. At first he had been unable to understand why they seemed so passive, but then all had been explained to him by a friend. “Young people these days cannot show enthusiasm,” he had been told. “It’s not considered smart to be enthusiastic.” So this is what was wrong with the apprentices. They wanted to be thought smart.

On one occasion, when Mr J.L.B. Matekoni felt particularly irritated at seeing the two young men sitting unenthusiastically on their empty oil drums staring into the air he had raised his voice at them.

“So you think you’re smart?” he shouted. “Is that what you think?”

The two apprentices had glanced at one another.

“No,” said one, after a few moments. “No, we don’t.”

He had felt deflated and had slammed the door of his office. It appeared that they lacked the enthusiasm even to respond to his challenge, which just proved what he had thought anyway.