MR J.L.B. Matekoni transferred his gaze to his desk and to the open page of his diary. He had noted down that today was his day to go to the orphan farm; if he left immediately he could do that before lunch and be back in time to check up on his apprentices' work before the owners came to collect their cars at four o'clock. There was nothing wrong with either car; all that they required was their regular service and that was well within the range of the apprentices' ability. He had to watch them, though; they liked to tweak engines in such a way that they ran at maximum capacity, and he would often have to tune the engines down before they left the garage.

"We are not meant to be making racing cars," he reminded them. "The people who drive these cars are not speedy types like you. They are respectable citizens."

"Then why are we called Speedy Motors?" asked one of the apprentices.

Mr J.L.B. Matekoni had looked at his apprentice. There were times that he wanted to shout at him, and this perhaps was one, but he always controlled his temper.

"We are called Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors," he replied patiently, "because our work is speedy. Do you understand the distinction? We do not keep the customer waiting for days and days like some garages do. We turn the job round quickly, and carefully, too, as I keep having to tell you."

"Some people like speedy cars," chipped in the other apprentice. "There are some people who like to go fast."

"That may be so," said Mr J.L.B. Matekoni. "But not everyone is like that. There are some people who know that going fast is not always the best way of getting there, is it? It is better to be late than the late, is it not?"

The apprentices had stared at him uncomprehendingly, and he had sighed; again, it was the fault of the Ministry of Education and their modern ideas. These two boys would never be able to understand half of what he said. And one of these days they were going to have a bad accident.