"You builded better than you knew, Mr. Weldon, and your jam tins
will be no house of cards. The Kaffirs are an unaccountable race of
beings, lazy and good-natured. Once let them love or hate, though,
and all their strength goes into the working out of the feeling.
Kruger Roberts obviously has a sweet tooth; the day may come when
your enemies may find it changed to a poisoned fang. Do you want the
advice of one who knows the country?"
"I do," he assented heartily.
"Then keep your Kruger Roberts," she said decisively.
"But what shall I do with him?"
"Let him do for you."
"As a valet? I've never been used to such luxury," he protested,
laughing.
She shook her head.
"Not only valet. He will be groom, cook, guide, interpreter and,
whether you wish it or not, your chum. Moreover, he will do it all
with the face of a clown and the manner of a tricksy monkey. As a
panacea for the blues, you will find him invaluable."
There was a little pause. Then she added, with a complete change of
tone, "My cousin has spoken of you so often, Mr. Weldon."
"And of you," he returned.
The directness of her answer pleased him.
"Then we ought to start as friends, and not waste time over mere
acquaintance.
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