She looked at Adolphine vacantly and indifferently. Then she said:
"It's not right for Gertrude to run about in the garden when it's so windy. . . . There are big branches falling from the trees."
"No, Mamma, I'll go and fetch her in."
"Gertrude?" asked Adolphine.
"She means our poor Klaasje," whispered Constance.
"But doesn't Mamma know me?"
"Not . . . just now. She'll recognize you presently. . . . Mamma, don't you know Phine?"
"Phine?" repeated the old lady.
"Adolphine, Mamma. Look, she's come to give you a kiss."
"She's dead," said the old woman . . .
"Mamma! Adolphine dead? Look, she's here!"
The old lady shook her head:
"She's dead," she said, unshakably. "She died . . . years ago."
Adolphine turned her head away and began to sob.
"She'll recognize you presently," said Constance, gently, consoling her. "She's sure to know you presently. Adolphine, I'm so glad to see you."
But Adolphine was sobbing violently:
"Mamma doesn't . . . know me!"
"My dear, she hasn't seen you for so long. I know she'll recognize you later on. . . . You're staying to lunch, of course. . . ."
"I . . . should like to. . . . Constance, I've come to . . ."
"Yes?"
"To ask something. . . . But presently, not now . . . I'm too much upset. . . ."
"Let me help you off with your things."
