“You met the Patriot here not long since, did you not, Mr Kershaw?” said Aletta, changing the subject with perfect ease.
“Which Patriot? There are so many patriots now,” he replied.
“Why, the Patriot. The one from Pretoria, of course.”
“Andries Botma? Oh yes, I met him. We had some very interesting talk together. I had long wanted to see him.”
“But—but—you are not of us,” said the girl, looking up quickly from her work-basket.
“This little girl is a red-hot patriot, Colvin,” said Stephanus, resting a large hand lightly upon the silky brown coil. “But, to be serious, I hope this will all quiet down and find its level.”
“Of course; are we not all jolly good friends together, Stephanus? We don’t want to be at each other’s throats at the bidding of other people.”
This remark brought Aletta up.
“But you said you had long wanted to meet the Patriot, Mr Kershaw. Why did you want to see him, then?”
“Because he is something unique—a really honest agitator. He means what he says and believes every word of it most thoroughly. He is full of verve and fire—in a word, a strong man. His is an immensely striking personality.”