"Certainly; I will do this with the greatest pleasure. But first we must wire and find out his whereabouts. I'll see about the matter and let you know at once." Thanking him gratefully, mother and daughter took their leave. "We should have asked permission to take a box of clothes and other little necessaries for our boy," the mother said. "Yes, what a pity we did not think of it! But surely there could be no objection to that! Let us get everything ready at least, and ask permission when we hear from General Maxwell again." The largest portmanteau in the house was overhauled and carefully and thoughtfully packed by the mother's yearning hands. No article of comfort was overlooked, no detail of the wardrobe considered too small for her closest attention and care. Presently Hansie came with _her_ contribution, a thick exercise-book and a couple of pencils. "Put these in, mother, if you still have room. I am going to ask Dietlof to write down all his adventures in this book for us to read afterwards. It will help him to get through his time of imprisonment." (This small act, I may add here, led to the publication of her brother's book, _Mijn Kommando en Guerilla-Kommando leven--On Commando_, in the English edition--which was begun in Ladysmith and written in the Indian Fort at Ahmednagar and smuggled out to Holland under conditions of such romantic interest: the first book on the war, written _during_ the war and devoured by the public in Holland long before it was allowed to reach South African shores--a book famed for its moderation and its truth, direct, sincere throughout.) * * * * * That Saturday night poor Mrs. van Warmelo never closed her eyes. She feared, and she had good reason to fear, that her son would pass through Johannesburg, and be transported to some foreign isle, before a word of greeting and farewell could be made by her. The thought of the morrow's Sabbath rest and inactivity intensified her fears. The first thing she said to Hansie next morning was: "You must go to General Maxwell and ask whether there is no news for us." "But, mother, this is Sunday!" "I know that. You will have to go to his house." "Oh, I could not possibly do that. What does he care about our anxieties? Besides, I think it would be most indiscreet." "I don't care," shortly. In the end Hansie had to go, and when once she had made up her mind she looked forward with some pleasure to her little adventure, for there was no one of the officials known to her for whom she had a more sincere regard than General Maxwell. His house was but a few minutes' walk from Harmony, and Hansie, looking up at the gathering clouds, hoped that she could be home again before the approaching storm broke loose. Our "brave" heroine _trembled_ when she rang the bell, for all her distaste of the task had returned with redoubled force, but her self-confidence was soon restored under the genial warmth of the General's greetings.