“Are these not beautiful pumpkins?” asked Aunt Emerencia.
“They are fairly large; but I am surprised at Nephew Jan taking the trouble to bring that kind of seed all the way from the Cape. There is plenty of the same kind here.”
“Truly?” she said in a tone of injured surprise. Then she called to the Hottentot, who, mindful of previous experiences, had remained close at hand.
“Here, schepsel,—bring in a bottle of that honey from the front chest. Yes, Uncle,—you would not believe how I have suffered since I finished that last medicine I had from you. This bottle of honey is from the bees’ nest Piet took out from the Dassie’s Krantz last week.”
The honey was placed alongside the pumpkins. Uncle Diederick did not even take the trouble to glance at it. He went on silently puffing at his pipe.
“Don’t you like honey, Uncle?”
“Yes,—but it is very plentiful this year, and I am tired of it.”
Aunt Emerencia groaned audibly.
“Schepsel,—fetch that new pair of veldschoens from the side-bag.”
“Yes,” she continued, addressing Uncle Diederick—“and you would not believe what a pain I get here, just below my breast. These drops I got from Aunt Susannah did me no good whatever.”