daytime, and spent half the nights in his office. The relation between him and the Commandant of the small garrison was of the pleasantest, and also in the family intercourse with the Controller there was not a trace of the differentiation made on the score of rank, which otherwise in India so often renders the relations stiff and tedious. To the Regent, Havelaar’s love of giving assistance where it was possible was often a most welcome relief, and there was no doubt he was well pleased with his “elder brother.” Finally, the sweetness of Mrs. Havelaar was no small contribution to a most agreeable intercourse with the few Europeans in the place and with the Native Chiefs. The official correspondence with the Resident at Serang bore evidence of mutual friendliness, and the orders of the Resident were carried out with a conscientiousness equal to the courtesy with which they were given.
Tine’s household was soon placed on a proper footing. After a long wait the furniture arrived from Batavia, ketimons were pickled, and when Max told any stories at the table it was no longer now for want of eggs for an omelette, although the living of the small family continued to show evidences that the intended economy was scrupulously practised.
Mrs. Slotering rarely left her house, and only took tea with the Havelaars in the veranda a few times. She spoke little, and always continued to keep a watchful eye on everyone who approached her own or Havelaar’s house. They had, however, become accustomed to what they had begun to call her monomania, and soon took no more notice of it.
Everything seemed to breathe a spirit of peace, for to Max and Tine it was comparatively a trifle to accommodate themselves to the privations unavoidable at an inland post remote from the main road. As no bread was baked at the place, they ate no bread. They might have ordered it from Serang, but the cost of carriage would have been too high. Max knew as well as anyone that there were various means of having bread brought to Rangkas-Betoong without paying for it, but unpaid labour, that cancer of India, was an
