I hope they'll grow, for it will be pleasant for you and Bob to sit under them sometimes and eat apples and pears such as your father used to have in his old orchard at home." "Yes, father," I said; "and for you too." "Perhaps, my boy; perhaps," he said, with a sigh.

"We shall see .-- Here, Jenny!" My aunt was already at the door, in her print sun-bonnet, and looking very cross, I thought.
"Yes," she said.
"Give these two men a good hearty meal; I dare say they're pretty hungry." "It's all ready, John," she said.
"That's right, my dear," said my father; and then, as if to himself, "I might have known." Turning to the short, thick-set Dutch Boer in charge of the wagon, father told him to go to the big wagon-sheet supported on poles, which we used for a dining-room, and then clapped the big black on the shoulder, bidding him go too.
"Get two spades, Val," he said as soon as the men were gone; "and you, Bob, come off that bundle of trees.

It wasn't sent all these thousands of miles by ship and wagon to make you a horse." I fetched the spades while my father went on unpacking the little trees, Bob being set to help by unlacing the string from the pleasant-smelling Russian mats.

Before the new arrivals were cast loose, the big black, with a tremendous sandwich of bread and bacon, had joined us, and showed at once that he meant to help.

After taking a big bite, he put his sandwich down while he carried trees to the places where they were to be planted, and after putting them down, returned for another bite, giving me a grin every time.
Then the spades were taken up; and by that time the Boer had eaten and drunk as much as he could, and gone to sit on the big chest in front of the wagon, where he filled his pipe and began to smoke, never offering to help, but watching us with his eyes half-closed.
"Here, steady, nigger!" said my father, smiling; "we're not going to bury bullocks.