said that Constance was Mamma’s child as much as any of us; and that it was only natural for Mamma to want us all to take Constance back as a sister, as it had all happened so very long ago and she had been married to Van der Welcke for fifteen years and their boy is thirteen . . .”
“Dorine, please, would you mind leaving the paper-weight alone? Else all those letters are sure to get mixed. . . . And what did Adolphine say to that?”
“Well, at first, Adolphine wouldn’t hear of going, said she was afraid of Constance’ bad influence on the girls, said she couldn’t possibly take them. In fact, she talked like a fool. But, when I told her that Van Naghel and Bertha were coming and that not a word had been said about their girls—that they were coming too—then Adolphine said that she would come after all and bring her girls. And Gerrit and Ernst”—Dorine opened Karel’s stamp-box, but shut it again at once, terrified when she saw the stamps neatly arranged in the compartments, according to their values—“I saw Gerrit and Ernst too; and Adeline spoke very nicely; and Paul . . .”
A gong sounded.
“That’s dinner,” said Karel. “I suppose you won’t stay, Dorine? I don’t think there’s much: Cateau and I always dine so simply. . . .”
“Oh, I eat very little; I should like to stay, if I may; then we can all go on to Mamma’s afterwards. . . .”
Karel van Lowe gave one more look at the muddy
