Nephews, that _rooibaatje_ there," pointing to John, "is one of the last men left in the British army." Most of her audience appeared to accept this argument as conclusive, but some mischievous spirit put it into the breast of the saturnine Carolus to contradict her, notwithstanding the lesson he had just received.
"That is not so, my aunt; there are many damned Englishmen still sneaking about the Nek, and also at Pretoria and Wakkerstroom." "I tell you it is a lie," said the old lady, raising her voice, "they are only Kafirs and camp-followers.

There were three thousand men in the British army, and now they are all killed except that _rooibaatje_.

How dare you contradict your future mother-in-law, you dirty squint-eyed, yellow-faced monkey?
There, take that!" and before the unfortunate Carolus knew where he was, he received the slop-basin with its contents full in the face.

The bowl broke upon the bridge of his nose, and the coffee flew all about him, into his eyes and hair, down his throat and over his body, making such a spectacle of him as must have been seen to be appreciated.
"Ah!" went on the old lady, much soothed and gratified by the eminent and startling success of her shot, "never you say again that I don't know how to throw a basin of coffee.

I haven't practised at my man Hans for thirty years for nothing, I can tell you.