And Guy carved the beef in fine, heavy slices, falling neatly and smoothly one on top of the other, with a dexterity which he remembered learning when quite a small boy from his father, when he recollected very well indeed carving the meat in the little dining-room in the Bankastraat. . . . That was Guy's duty, to carve the meat neatly; and he would have gone on carving till it all lay in neat slices on the dish, if Constance had not warned him:
"That ought to do, Guy."
The boy was just handing the dish to the maid, for her to take round, when a carriage drove into the front garden.
"Listen!" said Constance.
"That must be Addie!" exclaimed Gerdy, joyously.
"It's Addie, it's Addie!" cried Klaasje.
"Yes, it must be Addie," said Van der Welcke.
There was a loud ring at the bell; and at the same time a key grated in the latch.
"It's Addie!" they now all cried, with cheerful, expectant faces, rejoicing that he was back.
And Gerdy, in her restless way, got up. Mathilde would have got up too, but, finding Gerdy before her, she remained sitting. Gerdy's clear voice rang in the hall:
"Addie, you're back, you're back! Oh, but how cold and windy it is!"
The maids, likewise glad, fussed about, three of them to one handbag. Gerdy had left the door open and the draught penetrated to the dinner-table. But Addie was now in the room; and all their radiant faces were raised to his. They had done without him for five days. They had missed him for five days.
"Good-evening, everybody!"
