"How does he look?"
"Nineteen, weak eyes, white hair, little round nose," said the maid.
"Then it's he! then it's he!" said Tant Sannie triumphantly; "little Piet
Vander Walt, whose wife died last month--two farms, twelve thousand sheep.
I've not seen him, but my sister-in-law told me about him, and I dreamed
about him last night."
Here Piet's black hat appeared in the doorway, and the Boer-woman drew
herself up in dignified silence, extended the tips of her fingers, and
motioned solemnly to a chair. The young man seated himself, sticking his
feet as far under it as they would go, and said mildly:
"I am Little Piet Vander Walt, and my father is Big Piet Vander Walt."
Tant Sannie said solemnly: "Yes."
"Aunt," said the young man, starting up spasmodically; "can I off-saddle?"
"Yes."
He seized his hat, and disappeared with a rush through the door.
"I told you so! I knew it!" said Tant Sannie. "The dear Lord doesn't send
dreams for nothing. Didn't I tell you this morning that I dreamed of a
great beast like a sheep, with red eyes, and I killed it? Wasn't the white
wool his hair, and the red eyes his weak eyes, and my killing him meant
marriage? Get supper ready quickly; the sheep's inside and roaster-cakes.
We shall sit up tonight."
To young Piet Vander Walt that supper was a period of intense torture.
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