ne more.

The Captain was still in his uniform, but he was provided with clean
underclothing from the "boys'" wardrobes, and from that moment the
unmistakable smell of _commando_ no longer pervaded that home!

The rest of the morning was spent in making copies of the dispatches
to the President and drawing up a list of the necessaries to be
provided by the Committee for the men to take out with them, and in
the afternoon Harmony was besieged with a stream of callers.

Poor Hansie thought they would never end, and while she was
entertaining them in the drawing-room her mother was keeping the
others quiet in the dining-room--Mrs. Honey, Mrs. Armstrong, Mrs.
Malan, and the two spies.

That night their sleep was deep and refreshing, for they were worn
out in mind and body. There was only one man in the house, and they
were getting used to his presence, and the thought of the secret
hiding-place gave a sense of security.

They were up early again next morning, and, all the "business"
transactions having been done the day before, they devoted themselves
to the entertainment of their guest.

A more delightful day they never spent, and the memory of it clings to
them still.

Captain Naude was beginning to feel the restrictions of city
hospitality, and, longing to get out into the big garden, where the
early figs and apricots held their tempting sway, he asked Mrs. van
Warmelo once more to provide him with a suit of civilian clothing.

He was taller and slighter of build than the "boys," but she gave him
a suit belonging to the youngest son, Fritz, and from that moment he
walked freely about the house and garden.

His helmet and uniform lay buried in the hiding-place under the floor,
but his revolvers he kept on under his coat, in the leathern belt
strapped around his waist. This fact was significant of the deadly
peril in which they all were.

While the women were hastily getting through their household duties in
order to have a long talk with him, he roamed about the garden and
finally stretched himself out on the benches under the six
weeping-willows at the foot of the orange avenue.

"Who dat lying under our trees, Miss Hansie?" "Gentleman Jim"
inquired, from his perch in the mulberry tree behind the house.

"A friend of ours, Jim. He has been very ill in the hospital and has
asked us to let him spend the day in our garden."

"Oh yes, I can see him's cloes much too big for him."

"Hand me that basket, Jim,