“True, Gertie, and there also is the Scot who was so free and easy in giving his opinion as to the farming powers of the brothers Skyd.”
“Your road diverges here, sir,” said Hans, as Brook rode up; “I fell behind my party to bid you God-speed, and to express a hope that we may meet again.”
“Thanks, friend, thanks,” said Brook, extending his hand. “I am obliged for the aid you have rendered me, and the advice given, which latter I shall no doubt find valuable.—You are bound for the highlands, of course,” he added, turning to Sandy Black. “We of the Albany lowlands must have a friendly rivalry with you of the highlands, and see who shall subdue the wilderness most quickly.”
This remark sent the Scot into a rather learned disquisition as to the merits and probable prospects of a hill as compared with a low-lying region, during which Hans Marais turned to Gertie. Being so very tall, he had to stoop as well as to look down at her pretty face, though Gertie was by no means short for her age. Indeed, she was as tall as average women, but, being only twelve, was slender and girlish.
“How very tall you are, Mr Marais!” she exclaimed, with a laugh, as she looked up.
“True, Gertie,” said Hans, using the only name which he had yet heard applied to the girl; “true, we Cape-Dutchmen are big fellows as a race, and I happen to be somewhat longer than my fellows. I hope you don’t object to me on that account?”
“Object? oh no! But it is so funny to have to look up so high. It’s like speaking to father when he’s on horseback.”
“Well, Gertie, extra height has its advantages and its inconveniences. Doubtless it was given to me for some good end, just as a pretty little face and figure were given to you.”
“You are very impudent, Mr Hans.”
“Am I? Then I must ask your pardon. But tell me, Gertie, what do you think of the new life that is before you?”