"They're all goin' to clear out o' this before I'm much older," growled Bert, shaking with fury.
He broke off; for, to his amazement, Amurrica had risen, and was calling for silence.
As the man stood up, his long, sinewy frame, with a subtle twist in the carriage, outlined against the dark, smoky background, swaying slightly on his feet, as a result of his potations—the humorous curve on his thin lips which fascinated women and made Bert hate him—he would have made a study for the brush of Franz Hals. One thing which the Boers admired about him, was his mastery of the Taal. The man was a born linguist; he chose that language now.
He said he had the happiness to announce that he was the accepted suitor of Miss Lutwyche, and the marriage was to take place the following day. "Their esteemed Predikant"—then present, and somewhat blear-eyed—"had promised to unite them, in view of which festivity, he invited them all to a supper at the Vierkleur Hotel to-morrow. It had been suggested that the English minister, Mayne, had been left guardian of Miss Lutwyche. But this was to be set aside. If it were so, he had doubtless obtained such power by exerting undue influence over the dying man's conscience, and for his own sinister reasons. Vrouw Lutwyche was going to law about it. But in any case, possession was nine points of the law, and when he was the husband of Miss Millie he didn't quite know where the Britisher was coming in; not into his house, he was almighty sure about that."
There was a deep silence all the time he was speaking. Bert Mestaer stood up motionless, just opposite, behind the row of seated guests, and Millie stood quite near him. He was both hungry and thirsty, and he had, immediately upon entering, helped himself to coffee from a big pot on a side-table. He stood holding the untasted drink in his hand while he listened to the unfolding of Amurrica's plot. The moment he had finished, before he had time to sit down, Bert flung the hot contents of his cup full in the orator's face.
Amurrica was for the moment blinded by this unexpected shot. The coffee streamed down him, into the bosom of his shirt, and all over his clothes; and the words he used were not pretty.
There was a general stampede; but before the noise began—before the men took up the shout for a fight—even before Amurrica began to swear—Bert's ear had caught a sound that was to him like the bugle to a war-horse; the short, musical sound of Millie's applauding laugh.
He turned to her.
"Good-night!" he said. "We'll soon settle the question of his sitting up to-night or getting married to-morrow; and Mayne'll be back the day after. But listen to what I say; keep out of Tante Wilma's way to-night."
She gave her usual contemptuous answer: "I'm not afraid."