"Yes, yes, my dear, I know what you are going to say. It was very neatly
done; it isn't everybody who can count out six hundred running hungry
sheep without a mistake. But then, I oughtn't to say too much, for you
see I have been at it for fifty years, in the old colony and here. Now,
many a man would get fifty sheep wrong. There's Niel for instance----"

"Uncle," said she, wincing a little at the name, as a horse with a sore
back winces at the touch of the saddle, "it wasn't about the sheep that
I was going to speak to you. I want you to do me a favour."

"A favour? Why, God bless the girl, how pale you look!--not but what you
are always pale. Well, what is it now?"

"I want to go up to Pretoria by the post-cart that leaves Wakkerstroom
to-morrow afternoon, and to stop for a couple of months with my
schoolfellow, Jane Neville. I have often promised to go, and I have
never gone."

"Well, I never!" said the old man. "My stay-at-home Jess wanting to go
away, and without Bessie too! What is the matter with you?"

"I want a change, uncle--I do indeed. I hope you won't thwart me in
this."

Silas looked at her steadily with his keen grey eyes.

"Humph!" he said; "you want to go away, and there's an end of it. Best
not ask too many questions where a maid is concerned. Very well, my
dear, go if you like, though I shall miss you."