Nancy Joe touched him on the shoulder. “Kate is waiting for a word with you alone, sir,” she said, and Philip crossed the kitchen into the little parlour beyond, chill with china and bowls of sea-eggs and stuffed sea-birds.
“He's feeling it bad,” said Nancy.
“Never been the same since Pete went to the Cape,” said Cæsar.
“I don't know for sure what good lads are going to it for,” moaned Grannie. “And calling it Good Hope of all names! Died of a bullet in his head, too, aw dear, aw dear! Discussion of the brain it's like. And look at them black-heads too, as naked as my hand, I'll go bail. I hate the nasty dirts! Cæsar may talk of one flesh and brethren and all to that, but for my part I'm not used of black brothers, and as for black angels in heaven, it's ridiculous.”
“When you're all done talking I'll finish the letter,” said Jonaique.
“They can't help it, Mr. Jelly, the women can't help it,” said Cæsar.
“'Respected Sir, I must now close, but we are strapping up the chest of the deceased, just as he left it, and sending it to catch the steamer, the Johannesburg, leaving Cape Town Wednesday fortnight——'”
“Hm! Johannesburg. I'll meet her at the quay—it's my duty to meet her,” said Cæsar.
“And I'll board her in the bay,” shouted Black Tom.
“Thomas Quilliam,” said Cæsar, “it's borne in on my spirit that the devil of greed is let loose on you.”