Her father and Uys were returning to the stoep. Evidently some arrangement had been come to, but they were still haggling.
“Come on, Oom, you don’t want that red ox, now, it will pair with one I have and that will let you off another five pounds. Then I will take your old bays for 55 pounds and you will have only to pay me 40 pounds cash.”
“Forty cash!” complained Nick. “It is too much.”
“No, no, Uncle. It is not too much—you know that good enough. I couldn’t sell for less, even to Miss Chrissie’s father.”
He looked with his shy brown eyes at the girl and she smiled back. Braddon got up quickly.
“Well, I must go. Good-bye, Oom.”
The old man scowled at him but shook hands.
“Good-day, kerel.”
“Good-day, Miss Retief.”
“Good-day, Mr Braddon.”