HE DROVE out to the orphan farm, pressing vigorously on his horn, as he always did, when he arrived at the gate. He enjoyed his visits for more than one reason. He liked to see the children, of course, and he usually brought a fistful of sweets which he would distribute when they came flocking round him. But he also liked seeing Mrs Silvia Potokwane, who was the matron in charge. She had been a friend of his mother's, and he had known her all his life. For this reason it was natural that he should take on the task of fixing any machinery which needed attending to, as well as maintaining the two trucks and the battered old minibus which served as the farm's transport. He was not paid for this, but that was not to be expected. Everybody helped the orphan farm if they could, and he would not have accepted payment had it been pressed on him.

Mma Potokwane was in her office when he arrived. She leaned out of the window and beckoned him in.

"Tea is ready, Mr J.L.B. Matekoni," she called. "There will be cake too, if you hurry."

He parked his truck under the shady boughs of a monkey-bread tree. Several children had already appeared, and skipped along beside him as he made his way to the office block.

"Have you children been good?" asked Mr J.L.B. Matekoni, reaching into his pockets.

"We have been very good children," said the oldest child. "We have been doing good things all week. We are tired out now from all the good things we have been doing."

Mr J.L.B. Matekoni chuckled. "In that case, you may have some sweets."

He handed a fistful of sweets over to the oldest child, who received them politely, with both hands extended, in the proper Botswana fashion.

"Do not spoil those children," shouted Mma Potokwane from her window. "They are very bad children, those ones."