Of course, Dick was my brother, my wild, gay-hearted brother, and the handsomest boy in Ireland, and Judy was only my sister-in-law. And of course, no one ever thinks their sister-in-law quite nice enough for their brother. I wished to be quite just. Anyway, early morning reflections are always a mistake, so I gave them up.
I hopped softly out of bed, tipped up the canvas window, and peered out at the little township. Wattle-and-daub houses everywhere, some of them beehive shape, like kaffir huts, some of them barn-shape like the one I was in: but all with thatched roofs and some with verandahs, stuck here and there with apparent aimlessness, but not without a certain picturesque effect. Streets that were merely wide stretches of grass with a foot-path in the middle and wheel-ruts at the sides. A bush or a wild tree growing casually before a door. A porch made of packing-cases and clambered over by grenadilla, or a clematis-wreathed verandah, struck an individual note here and there. A plant with an enormous leaf and a floppy, sulphur-coloured flower seemed very popular and prolific. I afterwards discovered it to be the ubiquitous pumpkin.
There were many waggons about, all of them piled up with things, as though ready for departure.
I rather especially noticed a square-built hut, the walls of which rose no higher than about three feet, and from thence were open to the high-pitched thatched roof, except for native mats let down here and there in narrow rolls like blinds. It was rather like a primitive Japanese tea-house, and I thought how lovely it must be to sleep there at nights with all the mats rolled up and the stars peeping in. Evidently it belonged to a man, for just before its door sat a ring of black boys jabbering and cleaning a man’s boots and a man’s stirrups and other articles of riding-kit, whilst another boy was rubbing down a jolly chestnut mare with the same hissing noise grooms make at “home” when they are grooming. At a second glance I recognised the handsome head, the long graceful flanks, and the white hoofs of “Belle.” So her master was here, and lived in this glorified tea-house!
A little wave of gladness trembled through me, I knew not why. A good way off I could see the glint of galvanised-iron roofs—evidently the shops; and in the centre of the township was a big brisk building with a tall conning-tower rising from it, and a high-walled yard beyond. I recognised the post-office where the coach had drawn up the night before.
A dear little ridiculous, consequential place, I said to myself, and laughed with a heart as light as a feather, for the air that came in at the window was like champagne. Nevertheless, I still had post-cart ache, and decided that a day in bed would be the only real cure for my utter bone weariness. I slipped back amongst my pillows.
Judy suddenly woke up, yawned, looked at her hands, drew one of them up to carefully examine a spot on it, then let her eyes travel round the room until in the course of time they encountered me. Then she gave a great start and put up her hands to her hair.
“Oh, Deirdre, how you startled me! I had quite forgotten about your arriving.”
“Merci, ma chérie,” I laughed, “but I hope your cook has not. One thing Africa has done for me is to provide me with a perpetual appetite. I don’t know yet whether it is a good thing or not.”
Having hidden her hands under the counterpane my sister-in-law regained her complacency.