said, "Stan" and "Jet"; but oh, the joy, as soon as they were gone, of once more blurting out the titles to Geertje, the warm rapture of feeling that she was not only a baroness but the mother of a freule and a jonker:
"Geertje, has Freule Henriette had her milk? . . . Geertje, let the jonker wear his new shoes to-day!" . . .
No, she simply could not keep from it; and yet she had sense enough to know and perception enough to feel that the others thought it a mark of bad breeding in her, to refer to her babies of one year old and two as freule and jonker. . . . That was the worst of it, that she had married not only her husband but his whole family into the bargain: his grandmamma, his parents and Aunt Adeline with her troops of children whom Addie—so silly of him, because he was so young—regarded as his own, for whom it was his duty to care. . . . That was the worst of it; and oh, if she had known everything, known what a martyr she would be in this house, where she never felt herself the mistress—a victim to the idiot child's rude ways, a victim to Gerdy, who gave her sugar in her tea—if she had known everything, she might have thought twice before marrying him at all! . . .
And yet she was wonderfully fond of Addie, might still be very happy with him, if he would only come back to her . . . and not neglect her, over and over again, for all that crew of so-called adopted children with which he had burdened himself. . . . Oh, to get him out of it, out of that suffocating family-circle . . . and then to the Hague: her husband a young, smart doctor, she at court; and then see all the old friends again . . . and Papa and Mamma's relations . . . and perhaps leave cards on them sweetly: Baronne van der Welcke! . . .
