After a little careful feeling about, he produced
a black cloth coat, trousers, and waistcoat, which he laid on the table,
smiling knowingly. They were of new shining cloth, worn twice a year, when
he went to the town to nachtmaal. He looked with great pride at the coat
as he unfolded it and held it up.
"It's not the latest fashion, perhaps, not a West End cut, not exactly; but
it might do; it might serve at a push. Try it on, try it on!" he said, his
old grey eyes twinkling with pride.
Bonaparte stood up and tried on the coat. It fitted admirably; the
waistcoat could be made to button by ripping up the back, and the trousers
were perfect; but below were the ragged boots. The German was not
disconcerted. Going to the beam where a pair of top-boots hung, he took
them off, dusted them carefully, and put them down before Bonaparte. The
old eyes now fairly brimmed over with sparkling enjoyment.
"I have only worn them once. They might serve; they might be endured."
Bonaparte drew them on and stood upright, his head almost touching the
beams. The German looked at him with profound admiration. It was
wonderful what a difference feathers made in the bird.
Chapter 1.V. Sunday Services.
Service No. I.
The boy Waldo kissed the pages of his book and looked up. Far over the
flat lay the kopje, a mere speck; the sheep wandered quietly from bush to
bush; the stillness of the early Sunday rested everywhere, and the air was
fresh.
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