"Well," she said tartly, "here I am. What is it?"

"I have finished packing the cart, that's all."

"And you mean to tell me that you have brought me round here to say
that?"

"Yes, of course I have; exercise is good for the young." Then he
laughed, and she laughed too.

It was all nothing--nothing at all--but somehow it was very delightful.
Certainly mutual affection, even when unexpressed, has a way of making
things go happily, and can find entertainment anywhere.

Just then, who should arrive but Mrs. Neville, in a great state of
excitement, and, as usual, fanning herself with her hat.

"What do you think, Captain Niel? The prisoners have come in, and I
heard one of the Boers in charge say that he had a pass signed by the
Boer general for some English people, and that he was coming over to see
about them presently. Who can it be?"

"It is for us," said Jess quickly. "We are going home. I saw Hans
Coetzee yesterday, and begged him to try and get us a pass, and I
suppose he has."

"My word! going to get out: well, you are lucky! Let me sit down and
write a letter to my great-uncle at the Cape. You must post it when you
can. He is ninety-four, and rather soft, but I dare say he will like
to hear from me," and she hurried into the house to give her aged
relative--who, by the way, laboured under the impression that she was
still a little girl of four years of age--as minute an account of the
siege of Pretoria as time would allow.

"Well, John, you had better tell Mouti to put the horses in. We shall
have to start presently," said Jess.

"Ay," he said, pulling his beard thoughtfully, "I suppose that we
shall;" adding, by way of an afterthought, "Are you glad to go?"

"No," she said, with a sudden flash of passion and a stamp of the foot.
Then she turned and entered the house again.

"Mouti," said John to the Zulu, who was lounging about in a way
characteristic of that intelligent but unindustrious race, "inspan the
horses. We are going back to Mooifontein."

"_Koos!_" said the Zulu unconcernedly, and started on the errand as
though it were the most everyday occurrence to drive off home out of a
closely beleaguered town. That is another beauty of the Zulu race: you
cannot astonish them. No doubt they consider that extraordinary mixture
of wisdom and insanity, the white man, to be _capable du tout_, as the
agnostic French critic said in despair of the prophet Zerubbabel.

John stood and watched the inspannin