We haven't time
for much else. I hope you will remember that you came out here, not
to fuss the girls, but for the fuss with the Boers."
From his seat on the edge of the bed, Weldon eyed him amicably.
"Don't preach, Carew," he answered coolly. "It doesn't do my soul
any good, and it only renders you a bore. It has always been a
clause of my creed that two good things are better than one."
Nevertheless, in spite of his haste to unpack his calling clothes,
it was full three days later that Weldon turned his face eastward in
search of the home of Ethel Dent. Moreover, in all those three days,
he had given scarcely a thought to the companion of his voyage.
Notwithstanding his first impressions, Weldon had found much to
interest him in Cape Town. The streets, albeit unlovely, were full
of novel sights and the patter of novel tongues. Cape carts and
Kaffirs, traction engines and troopers, khaki everywhere and yet
more khaki, and, rising grimly behind it all, the naked face of
Table Mountain covered with its cloth of clouds! It was all a tumult
of busy change, bounded by the unchanging and the eternal. For one
entire morning, Weldon loitered about the streets, viewing all
things with his straightforward Canadian gaze, jostling and jostled
by turns.
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