"What," he said, tossing his head so as to throw the long black hair out of his eyes, "am I not fit to sit at meat with a couple of accursed English--a _rooibaatje_ and a woman?
If I had my way he should clean my boots and she should cut up my tobacco;" and he grinned at the notion till eyebrows, whiskers, and moustache nearly met round his nose, causing him to look for all the world like a hairy-faced baboon.
Frank Muller made no answer in words.

He simply took one step forward, pounced upon his insubordinate follower, and with a single swing of his athletic frame sent him flying headlong through the door, so that this free and independent burgher lit upon his head in the passage, smashing his pipe and considerably damaging his best feature--his nose.

"There," said Muller, shutting the door after him, "that is the only way to deal with such a fellow.

And now let me bid you good-day, Miss Jess," and he extended his hand, which Jess took, rather coldly it must be owned.
"It has given me great pleasure to be able to do you this little service," he added politely.

"I had considerable difficulty in obtaining the pass from the General--indeed I was obliged to urge my personal services before he would give it to me.