“Why? What? Oh, I see. No, really, I wasn’t making fun of the way you said it; on the contrary, you pronounced it so well I wanted to hear it again to make sure. Aren’t I right, father?”
“Right—as usual. But joking apart, I noticed the same thing. You’ll have to learn the lingo, Mr Denham, as I said.”
“I’ll try. By the way, what’s the meaning of the name of this place—Ezulwini?”
“In the heavens,” answered Verna. “Pretty name, isn’t it? It was named after the kraal of an old-time chief which stood on its site.”
“Why, yes. It’s rather good,” said Denham. “It’s much better to stick to the old native names instead of inventing British and new ones.”
“I agree with you. But the worst of it is there are so few that the British tongue can get round,” said Verna. “That makes rather a difficulty at a railway booking-office, for instance, when you have a newly-imported Britisher issuing tickets.”
“Such as myself,” laughed Denham.
“I didn’t know you issued tickets,” rejoined the girl mischievously.
“But the newly-imported Britisher!”
“Well, yes. I suppose you are that. But it isn’t incurable.”