Suspicions.
As the two horsemen passed over a ridge one of the blacks rose from the fire, stretched himself, and walked off slowly towards the oxen hidden by a cluster of sugar bushes, whose sweet perfume filled the air.
A little folding-table was placed under the canvas “scherm,” tea was made, and the two men waited for Miss Anstrade to appear from the waggon, whither she had retired to change her gown for a travelling-dress. This dress had been on her mind for several days past, in fact, ever since they arrived in Cape Town, and she had suffered extremely because she had not been able to discuss its shape and design with a qualified critic. The sail, falling over the back of the waggon, was drawn aside, a neat boot appeared, then a gaitered leg, and, with a laugh and a jump, she stood before them challenging their opinions.
The two men, not knowing, in their stupidity, what was expected of them, rose stolidly, and made way for her to reach her seat.
“Well,” she said, “what do you think of it?”
Hume took a swift look, which embraced short skirts, a neat waist, and then looked away startled, as though a pair of shapely legs were something quite new.
Webster had no such qualms of mistaken modesty.
“A very sensible dress,” he said, with a broadening smile.
“Sensible, is that all?” and she turned round.
“Yes, sensible and pretty, of course. It gives you freedom to move, and will keep your skirts from getting wet when the dew is on the grass.”