Cob.
I got a tap aft that struck the spot. Lucky my head wasn’t there! The tree beside the pig stye was broken in two like a pipe stem.
Kneirtje.
Did it come down on the pig stye?
Cob.
I believe it did.
Kneirtje.
I’m afraid it’s fallen in. The wood is so rotten.
Jo.
Ach, no! Aunt always expects the worst. [Surprised.] Uncle Cobus, how do you come to be out, after eight o’clock, in this beastly weather?