"My poor boy! It is dreadful!" "There," cried Hilda saucily; "it's all over, Jan.

I knew mamma would spoil him as soon as he came.

Go and have your face washed, Nic; you're not fit to touch ladies.

_Cooey--cooey_!" Nic stared to see his pretty young sister, a year older than he, suddenly put her hands to her mouth and utter a peculiar cry.
"She's calling one of the men." "_Cooey_!" came in response, and a shock-headed black in shirt and trousers came running down from one of the sheds.
"White Mary want er ?" "No, no: where's Samson ?" "White Mary want er--Sam," said the black aloud, as if telling himself; and he trotted off with a queer gait, his legs very far apart, as if he found trousers awkward to walk in; and he then burst into a sharp run, for the dogs, which had been smelling his heels, began to bark and rush after him.
"Here, here, here!" shouted Nic, for the black uttered a yell; and the dogs turned back obediently, and came to his side wagging their tails, and, apparently satisfied in their minds, were ready to respond to the friendly advances of the two girls.
"Hi! Sam!" cried Hilda, as a diminutive grey old man came hurrying down, smiling and touching his hat.

"Take Sorrel, and give him a feed of corn and a good rub down.