“You must go to bed at once,” he said, conducting her to a door which opened out of the sitting-room.  “I have had a fire lit in your chamber in case you should come, and old Tante Sally will bring you soup with brandy in it, and hot water for your feet.  Ah! there you are, old vrouw.  Come now; help the lady, your mistress.  Is all ready?”

“All, Baas,” answered the woman, a stout half-breed with a kindly face.  “Come now, my little one, and I will undress you.”

Half an hour later Benita, having drunk more brandy than ever she had done in her life before, was wrapped up and fast asleep.

When she awoke the sun was streaming through the curtained window of her room, and by the light of it she saw that the clock which stood upon the mantelpiece pointed to half-past eleven.  She had slept for nearly twelve hours, and felt that, notwithstanding the cold and exposure, save for stiffness and a certain numb feeling in her head—­the result, perhaps, of the unaccustomed brandy—­she was well and, what was more, quite hungry.

Outside on the verandah she heard the voice of Jacob Meyer, with which she seemed already to have become familiar, telling some natives to stop singing, as they would wake the chieftainess inside.  He used the Zulu word Inkosi-kaas, which, she remembered, meant head-lady or chieftainess.  He was very thoughtful for her, she reflected, and was grateful, till suddenly she remembered the dislike she had taken to the man.

Then she looked round her room and saw that it was very pretty, well furnished and papered, with water-colour pictures on the walls of no mean merit, things that she had not expected in this far-off place.  Also on a table stood a great bowl of arum lilies.  She wondered who had put them there; whether it were the old half-breed, Sally, or Jacob Meyer.  Also she wondered who had painted the pictures, which were all of African scenery, and something told her that both the flowers and the pictures came from Jacob Meyer.

On the little table by her bed was a handbell, which presently she rang.  Instantly she heard the voice of Sally calling for the coffee “quick,” and next minute the woman entered, bringing a tray with it, and bread and butter—­yes, and toast and eggs, which had evidently been made ready for her.  Speaking in English mixed with Dutch words, she told Benita that her father was still in bed, but sent her his love, and wished to know how she did.  Then, while she ate her breakfast with appetite, Sally set her a bath, and subsequently appeared carrying the contents of the box she had used upon the waggon, which had now arrived safely at the farm.  Benita asked who had ordered the box to be unpacked, and Sally answered that the Heer Meyer had ordered it so that she might not be disturbed in her sleep, and that her things should be ready for her when she woke.

“The Heer Meyer thinks a great deal about other people,” said Benita.