Round the door lay a few old ploughs and empty barrels, and beneath a solitary blue gum was a wooden bench with a rough table.

Native children played in the dust, and an old Kaffir squatted by the wall.
My few belongings were soon lifted from the Cape-cart, and I entered the shop.

It was the ordinary pattern of up-country store--a bar in one corner with an array of bottles, and all round the walls tins of canned food and the odds and ends of trade.

The place was empty, and a cloud of flies buzzed over the sugar cask.
Two doors opened at the back, and I chose the one to the right.

I found myself in a kind of kitchen with a bed in one corner, and a litter of dirty plates on the table.