“He only comes on business from Mr Holman,” he said. “It is best not to be hasty.”
Mrs Krige glanced swiftly at her son.
“Andreas,” she said, “is he on political business for Mr Holman?”
“As a messenger only. He brought me a letter.”
“Mr Holman would not send any but a trustworthy messenger,” she replied, and became silent as the Kaffir girl returned with the plates, and set them in a pile on the table for Honor to arrange.
“Place the chairs, Koewe,” said Honor—“straight, picannin schelm. That will do. Now go and help young missis in the kitchen.”
She swung round and faced her brother.
“What does Mr Holman say about him?” she asked.
“Very little,” Krige answered in his deliberate way. “I gather from the letter that he trusts him simply because he is new to the country, and has no knowledge of Dutch.”
“Ah!” said Honor, and gazed thoughtfully through the open window out upon the dried-up garden. “I wonder why he should carry letters for Mr Holman?” she mused.