"Certainly; I will do this with the greatest pleasure. But first we must wire and find out his whereabouts. I'll see about the matter and let you know at once."
Thanking him gratefully, mother and daughter took their leave.
"We should have asked permission to take a box of clothes and other little necessaries for our boy," the mother said.
"Yes, what a pity we did not think of it! But surely there could be no objection to that! Let us get everything ready at least, and ask permission when we hear from General Maxwell again."
The largest portmanteau in the house was overhauled and carefully and thoughtfully packed by the mother's yearning hands.
No article of comfort was overlooked, no detail of the wardrobe considered too small for her closest attention and care.
Presently Hansie came with her contribution, a thick exercise-book and a couple of pencils.
"Put these in, mother, if you still have room. I am going to ask Dietlof to write down all his adventures in this book for us to read afterwards. It will help him to get through his time of imprisonment."
(This small act, I may add here, led to the publication of her brother's book, Mijn Kommando en Guerilla-Kommando leven—On Commando, in the English edition—which was begun in Ladysmith and written in the Indian Fort at Ahmednagar and smuggled out to Holland under conditions of such romantic interest: the first book on the war, written during the war and devoured by the public in Holland long before it was allowed to reach South African shores—a book famed for its moderation and its truth, direct, sincere throughout.)