"I'm dreadfully wet . . . it's raining so. . . ."
"You've chosen a bad day."
"I didn't want to wait any longer."
"Tell me, what is it, what can I do for you?"
"I can't tell you yet."
Gerdy peeped round the open door:
"Is that Aunt Adolphine?"
"Yes," said Constance.
Marietje and Adeletje followed:
"Is that . . . Aunt Adolphine?"
They came in and shook hands.
"Is Klaasje out in the garden?" asked Constance.
"I saw her running about just now."
"You have a busy household . . . Constance," said Adolphine, waveringly.
"Yes," said Constance, smiling, "and yet I should miss them if they weren't there. All my daughters . . . and my boys."
The girls stood round her: Gerdy, looking very handsome; Adeletje, weak and pale; and Marietje, tall, lank and plain.
"And then you've got . . . Emilie . . . and Adeline," said Adolphine, counting them shyly.
"Yes," said Constance. "We all keep together now. . . . Children, Aunt Adolphine's staying to lunch."
Something in her words seemed to ask the girls to leave her alone with Adolphine. In the conservatory, the old woman sat gazing up at the clouds, which came sailing along big and grey, and she heard nothing, paid no attention.
"Adolphine," said Constance, when they were alone once more, "we have a moment before lunch. Come upstairs to my room, then we sha'n't be disturbed."
She put out her hand. Adolphine took it; and
