She was vexed with John--though she would probably not have owned it even to herself in so many words--and her manner reflected the condition of her mind.
"Bessie," said John one lovely day, just as the afternoon was merging into evening, "Bessie"-- he always called her Bessie now--"I am going down to the black wattle plantation by the big mealie patch.

I want to see how those young trees are doing.

If you have done your cooking"-- for she had been engaged in making a cake, as young ladies, to their souls' health, often have to do in the Colonies--"I wish you would put on your hat and come with me.

I don't believe that you have been out to-day." "Thank you, Captain Niel, I don't think that I want to come out." "Why not ?" he said.
"Oh, I don't know--because there is too much to do.

If I go out that stupid girl will burn the cake," and she pointed to a Kafir _intombi_ (young girl), who, arrayed in a blue smock, a sweet smile, and a feather stuck in her wool, was vigorously employed in staring at the flies on the ceiling and sucking her black fingers.