"It was my own proposal," Yorke replied. "I could not remain idle at home, and I was too young to go into any business there. I am fond of outdoor exercise, and as Mr. Allnutt, when in England, had kindly invited me to come over, I thought it would be best for me to accept his offer, and to learn something of the country and its ways before I made a start for myself."
"You were quite right," she said. "Certainly a stay here for a time will do that for you. But come in. Of course you will find our ways a little strange at first, but you look sensible, and I have no doubt you will soon feel at home."
After what Yorke had heard of the mode of life of the Dutch farmer, he was surprised to find, when he entered the house, an air of English comfort pervading it. The room prepared for him was such as he would meet with in the house of a well-to-do farmer in England; the furniture was good and substantial, muslin curtains hung at the windows. Looking out, he saw that the whole back of the house was covered with roses in full bloom, and that there was a small but pretty garden behind; round this was a large orchard—apple, pear, peach, and other fruit trees. He had seen nothing like this in any of the farmhouses they had passed on the road. On returning downstairs, after indulging in a good wash, he expressed his thanks to Mrs. Allnutt for the comfort of his bedroom, and his admiration for the gorgeous show of roses in the garden.
"Yes," she said, "I saw the gardens of many of the English mansions round Cape Town, and I made up my mind to have something like them here. My neighbours at first all thought it a terrible waste of labour, but I do not as a rule care much for other folks' opinions; and though I do not pretend to like your people, I do not see why we should not adopt their customs when we see that they are better than our own—especially when so many of our people living near Cape Town have taken to them."
"Everything looks very nice and comfortable, Mrs. Allnutt, and if I had not looked out of the window I should not have known that I was not at home."
"Can you ride?" she asked abruptly; for although her residence at Cape Town had taught her to appreciate the modes of life there, she did not like being thought, even in such a matter, to copy the British, and chose to consider that they were those of the better class of her own people—as, indeed, was the case.
"Yes, I can ride," Yorke said. "I am very fond of it."
"Can you shoot?"
"I have begun," he said. "You see, I have been at school, and it is only during the winter holidays that I have had any chance, and just the last fortnight of the long holiday in summer."
"But how is that?" she asked. "Why do you not shoot all the year round?"