Cob.
A dram? No, not a drop! Is that Simon?
Kneirtje.
[Listening between the bedsteads.] Am I right about the pig stye or not? Hear how the poor animal is going on out there. I’m sure the wall has fallen in.
Jo.
Let me go then. Don’t you go outside!
Kneirtje.
Ach, don’t bother me! [Off.]
Jo.
You pour yourself out a bowl, Uncle Cobus! I’ll give her a helping hand.