“Yes,” said Tant’ Sannie; “I had almost forgotten to tell you. By the Lord if I had him here! We were walking to church last Sacrament Sunday, Piet and I. Close in front of us was old Tant’ Trana, with dropsy and cancer, and can’t live eight months. Walking by her was something with its hands under its coat-tails, flap, flap, flap; its chin in the air, and a stick-up collar, and the black hat on the very back of the head. I knew him! ‘Who’s that?’ I asked. ‘The rich Englishman that Tant’ Trana married last week.’ ‘Rich Englishman! I’ll rich Englishman him,’ I said; ‘I’ll tell Tant’ Trana a thing or two.’ My fingers were just in his little white curls. If it hadn’t been the blessed Sacrament, he wouldn’t have walked so ‘sourka, sourka, courka,’ any more. But I thought, Wait till I’ve had it, and then — but he, sly fox, son of Satan, seed of the Amalekite, he saw me looking at him in the church. The blessed Sacrament wasn’t half over when he takes Tant’ Trana by the arm, and out they go. I clap my baby down to its father, and I go after them. But,” said Tant’ Sannie, regretfully, “I couldn’t get up to them; I am too fat. When I got to the corner he was pulling Tant’ Trana up into the cart. ‘Tant’ Trana,’ I said, ‘you’ve married a Kaffir’s dog, a Hottentot’s “brakje.’“ I hadn’t any more breath. He winked at me; he winked at me,” said Tant’ Sannie, her sides shaking with indignation, “first with one eye, and then with the other, and then drove away. Child of the Amalekite!” said Tant’ Sannie, “if it hadn’t been the blessed Sacrament! Lord, Lord, Lord!”

Here the little bush-girl came running to say that the horses would stand no longer, and still breathing out vengeance against her old adversary she labored toward the cart. Shaking hands and affectionately kissing Em, she was with some difficulty drawn up. Then slowly the cart rolled away, the good Boer-woman putting her head out between the sails to smile and nod. Em stood watching it for a time, then as the sun dazzled her eyes she turned away. There was no use in going to sit with Gregory; he liked best sitting there alone, staring across the green karroo; and till the maid had done churning there was nothing to do; so Em walked away to the wagon-house, and climbed on to the end of Waldo’s table, and sat there, swinging one little foot slowly to and fro, while the wooden curls from the plane heaped themselves up against her black print dress.

“Waldo,” she said at last, “Gregory has given me the money he got for the wagon and oxen, and I have fifty pounds besides that once belonged to some one. I know what they would have liked to have done with it. You must take it and go to some place and study for a year or two.”