like that and insisted on knowing what was the matter.
“I’ve been fighting with Jaap,” said Addie.
Constance, already a little annoyed, flared up at once:
“Fighting? Fighting? What about, Addie? There’s always something with the three boys.”
“Oh, nothing!” said Addie, evasively.
“Come,” said Van der Welcke, “all boys have a fight now and again.”
But Addie did not speak, remained stiff and silent. He did not answer, would not say why he had fought with Jaap. And he was reasonable, tried to eat something, so as not to upset his mother; but the food stuck in his throat. They hurried through dinner. When Addie was gloomy, everything was gloomy, there was nothing left, life was not worth the dismal living, Constance’ new and gentle happiness was gone, gone. . . .
“Shall we go and bicycle a bit, my boy?” asked Van der Welcke. “Or are you tired?”
“Yes, I’m tired.”
“Remember, Addie,” said Constance, coldly, “that we are going to Grandmamma’s and that you have to change.”
“Yes.”
He got up, went upstairs, to his boy’s room, not knowing what to say next, what to do with himself, where to sit, what book to take up; he remained standing, aimlessly, in the middle of the room, with
