Good-looking figures in khaki swarmed all over the hotel, and friends turned up every minute—­bearded pards, at whom one had to look twice before recognizing old acquaintances.  No less than a hundred officers were dining that night in the large restaurant.  Between the newly liberated prisoners and those who had taken part in the victorious march of Lord Roberts’s army one heard surprised greetings such as these:  “Hallo, old chap! where were you caught?” or a late-comer would arrive with the remark:  “There has been firing along the outposts all day.  I suppose the beggars have come back.” (I was relieved to hear the outposts were twelve miles out.) The whole scene was like an act in a Drury Lane drama, and we strangers seemed to be the appreciative audience.  Accustomed as we were to a very limited circle, it appeared to us as if all the inhabitants of England had been transported to Pretoria.

Early next day we drove out to see the departure of General Baden-Powell[36] and his Staff, who had been most warmly received by Lord Roberts, and who, after receiving his orders, were leaving to rejoin their men at Rustenburg.  As an additional mark of favour, the Commander-in-Chief and his retinue gave the defender of Mafeking a special send-off, riding with him and his officers some distance out of the town.  This procession was quite an imposing sight, and was preceded by a company of turbaned Indians.  Presently, riding alongside of General Baden-Powell, on a small, well-bred Arab, came the hero of a thousand fights, the man who at an advanced age, and already crowned with so many laurels, had, in spite of a crushing bereavement, stepped forward to help his country in the hour of need.  We were delighted when this man of the moment stopped to speak to us.  He certainly seemed surprised at the apparition of two ladies, and observed that we were very daring, and the first of our sex to come in.  I shall, however, never forget how kindly he spoke nor the inexpressible sadness of his face.  I told him how quiet everything appeared to be along the road we had taken, and how civil were all the Boers we had met.  At this he turned to the guest whose departure he was speeding, and said, with a grave smile, “That is thanks to you, General.”  And then the cortege rode on.  On reflection, I decided, rather from what Lord Roberts had left unsaid than from his actual words, that if we had asked leave to travel home via Pretoria, it would have been refused.

The rest of that day and the next we spent in seeing the town under its new auspices, and it certainly presented far more to interest a visitor than on the occasion of my last visit in 1896.  In a suburb known as Sunny Side was situated Lord Roberts’s headquarters, at a house known as the Residency.  Close by was a charming villa inhabited for the nonce by General Brabazon, Lord Dudley, Mr. John Ward, and Captain W. Bagot.  The surroundings of these dwellings were exceedingly pretty, with shady trees, many streams,