One reason for the indifferent trade at Blaauwildebeestefontein was very clear to me: the storekeeper was a sot.
I went back to the shop and tried the other door.

It was a bedroom too, but clean and pleasant.

A little native girl--Zeeta, I found they called her--was busy tidying it up, and when I entered she dropped me a curtsy.

'This is your room, Baas,' she said in very good English in reply to my question.

The child had been well trained somewhere, for there was a cracked dish full of oleander blossom on the drawers'-head, and the pillow-slips on the bed were as clean as I could wish.