grossed rather with an estimate of the situation than of
its consequences. I had looked for opposition and
disparagement at least, volubly voiced and backed with a
bloody example of a failure in marriage, and I know that
Katje shared my misgivings. But here was something
different.

"You--you are not angry?" asked Katje after a while.

The old lady started. "Angry! No, of course not. It is not
altogether my affair, Katje. As time goes on, I grow
nervous of stirring any broth but my own. If it were a
matter of mere wisdom, and knowledge of life, and the cool
head of an elder, I should not be afraid to handle you to
suit my ideas; but this is a graver piece of business.
Wisdom has nothing to do with it; those who are wise in
their love are often foolish in their life. You've got your
man, and if you want him you'll marry him in despite of the
tongues of men and of angels. I know; I did it myself."

"You?" cried Katje.

"Yes, me," retorted the Vrouw Grobelaar. "Why not? Do you
think that a person of sense has no feelings? When I was a
girl I was nearly as big a fool as some others I could
name, and got more out of it, in happiness and experience,
than ever they will."

"Tell us about it," suggested Katje.

"I am telling you," snapped the old lady.

"Don't interrupt. Sit down. Don't fidget; nor giggle.
There.

"When I was a girl," she began at last, "my father's farm
was at Windhoek, and beyond the nek to the south, an easy
two hours from our beacons, there lived one Kornel du
Plessis. I came to know him, somehow. I saw him here and
there, till I had no wish to see any but him, and we
understood one another very well. Ah, Katje, girls are
light things; but I truly think that in those days few Boer
maids had much mind for trivial matters in their loves when
once the man was found right and sound. Even at this length
of time I have a thrill in remembering Kornel: a big man,
and heavy, with thick shoulders, but very quick on his
feet, and eyes that were gray, with pleasant little puckers
at the corner. He sat far back in his saddle and lolled to
the gait of the horse easily; such men make horse-masters,
and masters of women. That is to say, they are masters of
all.

"There was no kissing behind the kraal and whispering at
windows. Neither of us had a mind for these meannesses. He
came to my father's house and took food with us, and told
my father the tale of his sheep and cattle, and the weight
of the mortg