"Yes，beupearly，myboy，"interruptedBonaparte，smiling。"Iamtobemasterofthisfarmnow；andweshallbegoodfriends，Itrust，verygoodfriends，ifyoutrytodoyourduty，mydearboy。"
　　Waldoturnedtogo，andBonaparte，lookingbenignlyatthecandle，stretchedoutoneunstockingedfoot，overwhichWaldo，lookingatnothinginparticular，fellwithaheavythuduponthefloor。
　　"Dearme！Ihopeyouarenothurt，myboy，"saidBonaparte。"You’llhavemanyaharderthingthanthatthough，beforeyou’vegonethroughlife，"headdedconsolingly，asWaldopickedhimselfup。
　　TheleanHottentotlaughedtilltheroomrangagain；andTantSannietitteredtillhersidesached。
　　WhenhehadgonethelittlemaidbegantowashBonaparte’sfeet。
　　"Oh，Lord，belovedLord，howhedidfall！Ican’tthinkofit，"criedTantSannie，andshelaughedagain。"Ialwaysdidknowhewasnotright；butthiseveninganyonecouldseeit，"sheadded，wipingthetearsofmirthfromherface。"Hiseyesareaswildasifthedevilwasinthem。Heneverwaslikeotherchildren。ThedearLordknows，ifhedoesn’twalkaloneforhourstalkingtohimself。Ifyousitintheroomwithhimyoucanseehislipsmovingthewholetime；andifyoutalktohimtwentytimeshedoesn’thearyou。Daft—eyes；he’sasmadasmadcanbe。"
　　ThisrepetitionofthewordmadconveyedmeaningtoBonaparte’smind。Heleftoffpaddlinghistoesinthewater。
　　"Mad，mad？Iknowthatkindofmad，"saidBonaparte，"andIknowthethingtogiveforit。Thefrontendofalittlehorsewhip，thetip！Nicething；
　　takesitout，"saidBonaparte。
　　TheHottentotlaughed，andtranslated。
　　"Nomorewalkingaboutandtalkingtothemselvesonthisfarmnow，"saidBonaparte；"nomoremindingofsheepandreadingofbooksatthesametime。
　　Thepointofahorsewhipisalittlething，butIthinkhe’llhaveatasteofitbeforelong。"Bonaparterubbedhishandsandlookedpleasantlyacrosshisnose；andthenthethreelaughedtogethergrimly。
　　AndWaldoinhiscabincrouchedinthedarkinacorner，withhiskneesdrawnuptohischin。
　　Chapter1。X。HeShowsHisTeeth。
　　Dosssatamongthekaroobushes，oneyelloweardrawnoverhiswickedlittleeye，readytoflapawayanyadventurousflythatmightsettleonhisnose。Aroundhiminthemorningsunlightfedthesheep；behindhimlayhismasterpolishinghismachine。Hefoundmuchcomfortinhandlingitthatmorning。Adozenphilosophicalessays，orangelicallyatunedsongsfortheconsolationofthebereaved，couldneverhavebeentohimwhatthatlittlesheep—shearingmachinewasthatday。
　　Afterstrugglingtoseetheunseeable，growingdrunkwiththeendeavourtospantheinfinite，andwrithingbeforetheinscrutablemystery，itisarenovatingrelieftoturntosomesimple，feelable，weighablesubstance；tosomethingwhichhasasmellandacolour，whichmaybehandledandturnedoverthiswayandthat。Whethertherebeorbenotahereafter，whethertherebeanyuseincallingaloudtotheUnseenpower，whethertherebeanUnseenpowertocallto，whateverbethetruenatureofthe"I"whocallandoftheobjectsaroundme，whateverbeourmeaning，ourinternalessence，ourcause（andinacertainorderofmindsdeathandtheagonyoflossinevitablyawakenthewilddesire，atothertimessmothered，tolookintothesethings），whateverbethenatureofthatwhichliesbeyondtheunbrokenwallwhichthelimitsofthehumanintellectbuilduponeveryhand，thisthingiscertain——aknifewillcutwood，andonecoggedwheelwillturnanother。Thisissure。
　　Waldofoundanimmeasurablesatisfactioninthehandlingofhismachine；
　　butDosswinkedandblinked，andthoughtitallfrightfullymonotonousoutthereontheflat，andpresentlydroppedasleep，sittingboltupright。
　　Suddenlyhiseyesopenedwide；somethingwascomingfromthedirectionofthehomestead。Winkinghiseyesandlookingintently，heperceiveditwasthegreymare。NowDosshadwonderedmuchoflatewhathadbecomeofhermaster。Seeingshecarriedsomeoneonherback，henowcametohisownconclusion，andbegantomovehistailviolentlyupanddown。Presentlyheprickeduponeearandlettheotherhang；histailbecamemotionless，andtheexpressionofhismouthwasoneofdecideddisapprovalborderingonscorn。Hewrinkledhislipsuponeachsideintolittlelines。
　　Thesandwassoft，andthegreymarecameonsonoiselesslythattheboyheardnothingtillBonapartedismounted。ThenDossgotupandmovedbackastep。HedidnotapproveofBonaparte’sappearance。Hiscostume，intruth，wasofauniquekind。Itwasacombinationofthetownandcountry。
　　Thetailsofhisblackclothcoatwerepinnedupbehindtokeepthemfromrubbing；hehadonapairofmoleskintrousersandleathergaiters，andinhishandhecarriedalittlewhipofrhinoceroshide。
　　Waldostartedandlookedup。Hadtherebeenamoment’stimehewouldhavedugaholeinthesandwithhishandsandburiedhistreasure。Itwasonlyatoyofwood，buthelovedit，asoneofnecessityloveswhathasbeenbornofhim，whetherofthefleshorspirit。Whencoldeyeshavelookedatit，thefeathersarerubbedoffourbutterfly’swingforever。
　　"Whathaveyouhere，mylad？"saidBonaparte，standingbyhim，andpointingwiththeendofhiswhiptothemedleyofwheelsandhinges。
　　Theboymutteredsomethinginaudible，andhalfspreadoverthething。
　　"Butthisseemstobeaveryingeniouslittlemachine，"saidBonaparte，seatinghimselfontheantheap，andbendingdownoveritwithdeepinterest。"Whatisitfor，mylad？"
　　"Shearingsheep。"
　　"Itisaverynicelittlemachine，"saidBonaparte。"Howdoesitwork，now？Ihaveneverseenanythingsoingenious！"
　　Therewasneveraparentwhohearddeceptioninthevoicethatpraisedhischild——hisfirst—born。Herewasonewholikedthethingthathadbeencreatedinhim。Heforgoteverything。Heshowedhowtheshearswouldworkwithalittleguidance，howthesheepwouldbeheld，andthewoolfallintothetrough。Aflushburstoverhisfaceashespoke。
　　"Itellyouwhat，mylad，"saidBonaparteemphatically，whentheexplanationwasfinished，"wemustgetyouapatent。Yourfortuneismade。
　　Inthreeyears’timethere’llnotbeafarminthiscolonywhereitisn’tworking。You’reagenius，that’swhatyouare！"saidBonaparte，rising。
　　"Ifitweremadelarger，"saidtheboy，raisinghiseyes，"itwouldworkmoresmoothly。Doyouthinktherewouldbeanyoneinthiscolonywouldbeabletomakeit？"
　　"I’msuretheycould，"saidBonaparte；"andifnot，whyI’lldomybestforyou。I’llsendittoEngland。Itmustbedonesomehow。Howlonghaveyouworkedatit？"
　　"Ninemonths，"saidtheboy。
　　"Oh，itissuchanicelittlemachine，"saidBonaparte，"onecan’thelpfeelinganinterestinit。Thereisonlyonelittleimprovement，oneverylittleimprovement，Ishouldliketomake。"
　　Bonaparteputhisfootonthemachineandcrusheditintothesand。Theboylookedupintohisface。
　　"Looksbetternow，"saidBonaparte，"doesn’tit？Ifwecan’thaveitmadeinEnglandwe’llsendittoAmerica。Good—bye；ta—ta，"headded。"You’reagreatgenius，aborngenius，mydearboy，there’snodoubtaboutit。"
　　Hemountedthegreymareandrodeoff。Thedogwatchedhisretreatwithcynicalsatisfaction；buthismasterlayonthegroundwithhisheadonhisarmsinthesand，andthelittlewheelsandchipsofwoodlayonthegroundaroundhim。Thedogjumpedontohisbackandsnappedattheblackcurls，till，findingthatnonoticewastaken，hewalkedofftoplaywithablackbeetle。Thebeetlewashardatworktryingtorollhomeagreatballofdungithadbeencollectingallthemorning：butDossbroketheball，andatethebeetle’shindlegs，andthenbitoffitshead。Anditwasallplay，andnoonecouldtellwhatithadlivedandworkedfor。Astriving，andastriving，andanendinginnothing。
　　Chapter1。XI。HeSnaps。
　　"Ihavefoundsomethingintheloft，"saidEmtoWaldo，whowaslistlesslypilingcakesoffuelonthekraalwall，aweekafter。"Itisaboxofbooksthatbelongedtomyfather。WethoughtTantSanniehadburntthem。"
　　Theboyputdownthecakehewasraisingandlookedather。
　　"Idon’tthinktheyareverynice，notstories，"sheadded，"butyoucangoandtakeanyyoulike。"
　　Sosaying，shetookuptheplateinwhichshehadbroughthisbreakfast，andwalkedofftothehouse。
　　Afterthattheboyworkedquickly。ThepileoffuelBonapartehadorderedhimtopackwasonthewallinhalfanhour。Hethenwenttothrowsaltontheskinslaidouttodry。Findingthepotempty，hewenttothelofttorefillit。
　　BonaparteBlenkins，whosedooropenedatthefootoftheladder，sawtheboygoup，andstoodinthedoorwaywaitingforhisreturn。Hewantedhisbootsblacked。Doss，findinghecouldnotfollowhismasteruptheroundbars，satpatientlyatthefootoftheladder。Presentlyhelookeduplongingly，butnooneappeared。ThenBonapartelookedupalso，andbegantocall；buttherewasnoanswer。Whatcouldtheboybedoing？TheloftwasanunknownlandtoBonaparte。Hehadoftenwonderedwhatwasupthere；
　　helikedtoknowwhatwasinalllocked—upplacesandout—of—the—waycorners，buthewasafraidtoclimbtheladder。SoBonapartelookedup，andinthenameofallthatwastantalizing，questionedwhattheboydidupthere。Theloftwasusedonlyasalumber—room。Whatcouldthefellowfinduptheretokeephimsolong？
　　CouldtheBoer—womanhavebeheldWaldoatthatinstant，anylingeringdoubtwhichmighthaveremainedinhermindastotheboy’sinsanitywouldinstantlyhavevanished。For，havingfilledthesalt—pot，heproceededtolookfortheboxofbooksamongtherubbishthatfilledtheloft。Underapileofsackshefoundit——aroughpacking—case，nailedup，butwithonelooseplank。Heliftedthat，andsawtheevenbacksofarowofbooks。Hekneltdownbeforethebox，andranhishandalongitsroughedges，asiftoassurehimselfofitsexistence。Hestuckhishandinamongthebooks，andpulledouttwo。Hefeltthem，thrusthisfingersinamongtheleaves，andcrumpledthemalittle，asaloverfeelsthehairofhismistress。Thefellowgloatedoverhistreasure。Hehadhadadozenbooksinthecourseofhislife；nowherewasamineofthemopenedathisfeet。Afterawhilehebegantoreadthetitles，andnowandagainopenedabookandreadasentence；buthewastooexcitedtocatchthemeaningsdistinctly。Atlasthecametoadull，brownvolume。Hereadthename，openeditinthecentre，andwhereheopenedbegantoread。Itwasachapteronpropertythathefellupon——Communism，Fourierism，St。Simonism，inaworkonPoliticalEconomy。Hereaddownonepageandturnedovertothenext；hereaddownthatwithoutchanginghisposturebyaninch；hereadthenext，andthenext，kneelingupallthewhilewiththebookinhishand，andhislipsparted。
　　Allhereadhedidnotfullyunderstand；thethoughtswerenewtohim；butthiswasthefellow’sstartledjoyinthebook——thethoughtswerehis，theybelongedtohim。Hehadneverthoughtthembefore，buttheywerehis。
　　Helaughedsilentlyandinternally，withthestillintensityoftriumphantjoy。
　　So，then，allthinkingcreaturesdidnotsenduptheonecry——"Asthou，dearLord，hascreatedthingsinthebeginning，soaretheynow，sooughttheytobe，sowilltheybe，worldwithoutend；anditdoesn’tconcernuswhattheyare。Amen。"Therewerementowhomnotonlykopjesandstoneswerecallingoutimperatively，"Whatarewe，andhowcamewehere？
　　Understandus，andknowus；"buttowhomeventheold，oldrelationsbetweenmanandman，andthecustomsoftheagescalled，andcouldnotbemadestillandforgotten。
　　Theboy’sheavybodyquiveredwithexcitement。Sohewasnotalone，notalone。Hecouldnotquitehavetoldanyonewhyhewassoglad，andthiswarmthhadcometohim。Hischeekswereburning。NowonderthatBonapartecalledinvain，andDossputhispawsontheladder，andwhinedtillthree—
　　quartersofanhourhadpassed。Atlasttheboyputthebookinhisbreastandbuttonedittightlytohim。Hetookupthesaltpot，andwenttothetopoftheladder。Bonaparte，withhishandsfoldedunderhiscoat—tails，lookedupwhenheappeared，andaccostedhim。
　　"You’vebeenratheralongtimeupthere，mylad，"hesaid，astheboydescendedwithatremuloushaste，mostunlikehisordinaryslowmovements。
　　"Youdidn’thearmecalling，Isuppose？"
　　Bonapartewhiskedthetailsofhiscoatupanddownashelookedathim。
　　He，BonaparteBlenkins，hadeyeswhichwereveryfar—seeing。Helookedatthepot。Itwasratherasmallpottohavetakenthree—quartersofanhourinthefilling。Helookedattheface。Itwasflushed。Andyet，TantSanniekeptnowine——hehadnotbeendrinking；hiseyeswerewideopenandbright——hehadnotbeensleeping；therewasnogirlupthere——hehadnotbeenmakinglove。Bonapartelookedathimsagaciously。Whatwouldaccountforthemarvellouschangeintheboycomingdowntheladderfromtheboygoinguptheladder？Onethingtherewas。DidnotTantSanniekeepintheloftbultongs，andnicesmokedsausages？Theremustbesomethingnicetoeatupthere！Aha！thatwasit！
　　Bonapartewassointerestedincarryingoutthischainofinductivereasoningthathequiteforgottohavehisbootsblacked。
　　Hewatchedtheboyshuffleoffwiththesalt—potunderhisarm；thenhestoodinhisdoorwayandraisedhiseyestothequietbluesky，andaudiblypropoundedthisriddletohimself：
　　"Whatistheconnectionbetweenthenakedbackofacertainboywithagreatcoatonandasalt—potunderhisarm，andthetipofahorsewhip？
　　Answer：Noconnectionatpresent，buttherewillbesoon。"
　　Bonapartewassopleasedwiththissallyofhiswitthathechuckledalittleandwenttoliedownonhisbed。
　　Therewasbread—bakingthatafternoon，andtherewasafirelightedinthebrickovenbehindthehouse，andTantSanniehadleftthegreatwooden—
　　elbowedchairinwhichshepassedherlife，andwaddledouttolookatit。
　　NotfaroffwasWaldo，who，havingthrownapailoffoodintothepigsty，nowleanedoverthesodwalllookingatthepigs。Halfofthestywasdry，butthelowerhalfwasapoolofmud，ontheedgeofwhichthemothersowlaywithclosedeyes，hertenlittleonessucking；thefatherpig，knee—
　　deepinthemud，stoodrunninghissnoutintoarottenpumpkinandwrigglinghiscurledtail。
　　Waldowondereddreamilyashestaredwhytheywerepleasanttolookat。
　　Takensinglytheywerenotbeautiful；takentogethertheywere。Wasitnotbecausetherewasacertainharmonyaboutthem？Theoldsowwassuitedtothelittlepigs，andthelittlepigstotheirmother，theoldboartotherottenpumpkin，andalltothemud。Theysuggestedthethoughtofnothingthatshouldbeadded，ofnothingthatshouldbetakenaway。And，hewonderedonvaguely，wasnotthatthesecretofallbeauty，thatyouwholookon——Sohestooddreaming，andleanedfurtherandfurtheroverthesodwall，andlookedatthepigs。
　　AllthistimeBonaparteBlenkinswasslopingdownfromthehouseinanaimlesssortofway；buthekeptoneeyefixedonthepigsty，andeachgyrationbroughthimnearertoit。WaldostoodlikeathingasleepwhenBonapartecamecloseuptohim。
　　Inolddays，whenasmallboy，playinginanIrishstreet—gutter，he，Bonaparte，hadbeenfamiliarlyknownamonghiscomradesunderthetitleofTrippingBen；this，fromtherareeaseanddexteritywithwhich，bymerelyprojectinghisfoot，hecouldprecipitateanyunfortunatecompanionontothecrownofhishead。Yearshadelapsed，andTrippingBenhadbecomeBonaparte；buttheoldgiftwasinhimstill。Hecameclosetothepigsty。
　　Allthedefunctmemoriesofhisboyhoodreturnedonhiminaflood，as，withanadroitmovement，heinsertedhislegbetweenWaldoandthewallandsenthimoverintothepigsty。
　　Thelittlepigswerestartledatthestrangeintruder，andranbehindtheirmother，whosniffedathim。TantSanniesmoteherhandstogetherandlaughed；butBonapartewasfarfromjoiningher。Lostinreverie，hegazedatthedistanthorizon。
　　ThesuddenreversalofheadandfeethadthrownoutthevolumethatWaldocarriedinhisbreast。Bonapartepickeditupandbegantoinspectit，astheboyclimbedslowlyoverthewall。Hewouldhavewalkedoffsullenly，buthewantedhisbook，andhewaiteduntilitshouldbegivenhim。
　　"Ha！"saidBonaparte，raisinghiseyesfromtheleavesofthebookwhichhewasexamining，"Ihopeyourcoathasnotbeeninjured；itisofanelegantcut。Anheirloom，Ipresume，fromyourpaternalgrandfather？Itlooksnicenow。"
　　"Oh，Lord！oh！Lord！"criedTantSannie，laughingandholdinghersides；
　　howthechildlooks——asthoughhethoughtthemudwouldneverwashoff。
　　Oh，Lord，Ishalldie！You，Bonaparte，arethefunniestmanIeversaw。"
　　BonaparteBlenkinswasnowcarefullyinspectingthevolumehehadpickedup。Amongthesubjectsonwhichthedarknessofhisunderstandinghadbeenenlightenedduringhisyouth，PoliticalEconomyhadnotbeenone。Hewasnot，therefore，veryclearastowhatthenatureofthebookmightbe；andasthenameofthewriter，J。S。Mill，might，foranythingheknewtothecontrary，havebelongedtoavenerablememberoftheBritishandForeignBibleSociety，itbynomeansthrewlightuponthequestion。HewasnotinanywaysurethatPoliticalEconomyhadnothingtodowiththecheapestwayofprocuringclothingforthearmyandnavy，whichwouldbecertainlybothapoliticalandeconomicalsubject。
　　ButBonapartesooncametoaconclusionastothenatureofthebookanditscontents，bytheapplicationofasimplerulenowlargelyactedupon，butwhich，becominguniversal，wouldsavemuchthoughtandvaluabletime。
　　Itisofmarvelloussimplicity，ofinfiniteutility，ofuniversalapplicability。Itmayeasilybecommittedtomemoryandrunsthus：
　　Wheneveryoucomeintocontactwithanybook，person，oropinionofwhichyouabsolutelycomprehendnothing，declarethatbook，personoropiniontobeimmoral。Bespatterit，vituperateagainstit，stronglyinsistthatanymanorwomanharbouringitisafooloraknave，orboth。Carefullyabstainfromstudyingit。Doallthatinyouliestoannihilatethatbook，person，oropinion。
　　Actingonthisrule，sowideinitscomprehensiveness，sobeautifullysimpleinitsworking，BonaparteapproachedTantSanniewiththebookinhishand。Waldocameastepnearer，eyeingitlikeadogwhoseyounghasfallenintoevilhands。
　　"Thisbook，"saidBonaparte，"isnotafitandproperstudyforayoungandimmaturemind。"
　　TantSanniedidnotunderstandaword，andsaid：
　　"What？"
　　"Thisbook，"saidBonaparte，bringingdownhisfingerwithenergyonthecover，"thisbookissleg，sleg，Davel，Davel！"
　　TantSannieperceivedfromthegravityofhiscountenancethatitwasnolaughingmatter。Fromthewords"sleg"and"Davel"sheunderstoodthatthebookwasevil，andhadsomeconnectionwiththeprincewhopullsthewiresofeviloverthewholeearth。
　　"Wheredidyougetthisbook？"sheasked，turninghertwinklinglittleeyesonWaldo。"IwishthatmylegsmaybeasthinasanEnglishman’sifitisn’toneofyourfather’s。HehadmoresinsthanalltheKaffersinKafferland，forallthathepretendedtobesogoodallthoseyears，andtolivewithoutawifebecausehewasthinkingoftheonethatwasdead！Asthoughtendeadwivescouldmakeupforonefatonewitharmsandlegs！"
　　criedTantSannie，snorting。
　　"Itwasnotmyfather’sbook，"saidtheboysavagely。"Igotitfromyourloft。"
　　"Myloft！mybook！Howdareyou？"criedTantSannie。
　　"ItwasEm’sfather’s。Shegaveitme，"hemutteredmoresullenly。
　　"Giveithere。Whatisthenameofit？Whatisitabout？"sheasked，puttingherfingeruponthetitle。
　　Bonaparteunderstood。
　　"PoliticalEconomy，"hesaidslowly。
　　"DearLord！"saidTantSannie，"cannotonehearfromtheverysoundwhatanungodlybookitis！Onecanhardlysaythename。Haven’twegotcursesenoughonthisfarm？"criedTantSannie，eloquently；"mybestimportedMerinoramdyingofnobodyknowswhat，andtheshort—horncowcastinghertwocalves，andthesheepeatenupwiththescabandthedrought？Andisthisatimetobringungodlythingsabouttheplace，tocalldownthevengeanceofAlmightyGodtopunishusmore？Didn’ttheministertellmewhenIwasconfirmednottoreadanybookexceptmyBibleandhymn—book，thatthedevilwasinalltherest？AndIneverhavereadanyotherbook，"
　　saidTantSanniewithvirtuousenergy，"andIneverwill！"
　　Waldosawthatthefateofhisbookwassealed，andturnedsullenlyonhisheel。
　　"SoyouwillnotstaytohearwhatIsay！"criedTantSannie。"There，takeyourPolity—gollity—gominy，yourdevil’sbook！"shecried，flingingthebookathisheadwithmuchenergy。
　　Itmerelytouchedhisforeheadononesideandfelltotheground。
　　"Goon，"shecried；"Iknowyouaregoingtotalktoyourself。Peoplewhotalktothemselvesalwaystalktothedevil。Goandtellhimallaboutit。
　　Go，go！run！"criedTantSannie。
　　Buttheboyneitherquickenednorslackenedhispace，andpassedsullenlyroundthebackofthewagon—house。
　　Bookshavebeenthrownatotherheadsbeforeandsincethatsummerafternoon，byhandsmorewhiteanddelicatethanthoseoftheBoer—woman；
　　butwhethertheresultoftheprocesshasbeeninanycasewhollysatisfactory，maybequestioned。Welovethatwithapeculiartenderness，wetreasureitwithapeculiarcare，ithasforusquiteafictitiousvalue，forwhichwehavesuffered。Ifwemaynotcarryitanywhereelsewewillcarryitinourhearts，andalwaystotheend。
　　BonaparteBlenkinswenttopickupthevolume，nowloosenedfromitscover，whileTantSanniepushedthestumpsofwoodfurtherintotheoven。
　　Bonapartecameclosetoher，tappedthebookknowingly，nodded，andlookedatthefire。TantSanniecomprehended，and，takingthevolumefromhishand，threwitintothebackoftheoven。Itlayupontheheapofcoals，smoked，flared，andblazed，andthe"PoliticalEconomy"wasnomore——goneoutofexistence，likemanyanotherpoorhereticoffleshandblood。
　　Bonapartegrinned，andtowatchtheprocessbroughthisfacesoneartheovendoorthatthewhitehaironhiseyebrowsgotsinged。Hetheninquirediftherewereanymoreintheloft。
　　Learningthattherewere，hemadesignsindicativeoftakinguparmfulsandflingingthemintothefire。ButTantSanniewasdubious。ThedeceasedEnglishmanhadleftallhispersonaleffectsspeciallytohischild。ItwasallverywellforBonapartetotalkofburningthebooks。Hehadhadhishairspirituallypulled，andshehadnowishtorepeathisexperience。
　　Sheshookherhead。Bonapartewasdispleased。Butthenahappythoughtoccurredtohim。Hesuggestedthatthekeyoftheloftshouldhenceforthbeputintohisownsafecareandkeeping——noonegainingpossessionofitwithouthispermission。TothisTantSanniereadilyassented，andthetwowalkedlovinglytothehousetolookforit。
　　Chapter1。XII。HeBites。
　　BonaparteBlenkinswasridinghomeonthegreymare。Hehadriddenoutthatafternoon，partlyforthebenefitofhishealth，partlytomaintainhischaracterasoverseerofthefarm。Asherodeonslowly，hethoughtfullytouchedtheearsofthegreymarewithhiswhip。
　　"No，Bon，myboy，"headdressedhimself，"don’tpropose！Youcan’tmarryforfouryears，onaccountofthewill；thenwhypropose？Wheedleher，tweedleher，teedleher，butdon’tlethermakesureofyou。Whenawoman，"saidBonaparte，sagelyrestinghisfingeragainstthesideofhisnose，"Whenawomanissureofyoushedoeswhatshelikeswithyou；butwhensheisn’t，youdowhatyoulikewithher。AndI——"saidBonaparte。
　　Herehedrewthehorseupsuddenlyandlooked。Hewasnowclosetothehouse，andleaningoverthepigstywall，incompanywithEm，whowasshowingherthepigs，wasastrangefemalefigure。Itwasthefirstvisitorthathadappearedonthefarmsincehisarrival，andhelookedatherwithinterest。Shewasatall，pudgygirloffifteen，weighingahundredandfiftypounds，withbaggypendulouscheeksandup—turnednose。
　　ShestrikinglyresembledTantSannie，informandfeature，buthersleepygoodeyeslackedthattwinklethatdweltintheBoer—woman’ssmallorbs。
　　Shewasattiredinabrightgreenprint，worebrassringsinherearsandglassbeadsroundherneck，andwassuckingthetipofherlargefingerasshelookedatthepigs。