packed themselves into the carriage as comfortably as possible, and the company drove away. The jolting and shaking made conversation difficult. Little Max was kept good with pesang,[1] and his mother, who held him in her lap, would absolutely not admit that she was tired, when Havelaar offered to take the heavy child. During a moment of enforced rest in a mud-hole, Verbrugge asked the Resident whether he had already spoken to the new Assistant-Resident about Mrs. Slotering.
“Mister Havelaar. Has said . . .”
“Certainly, Verbrugge, why not? The lady can stay with us. I should not like . . .”
“That. It. Was. All right,” the Resident dragged out with a great effort.
“I should not like to deny the use of my house to a lady in her circumstances! A thing like that speaks for itself . . . doesn’t it, Tine?”
Tine also considered that it spoke for itself.
“You have two houses at Rangkas-Betoong,” said Verbrugge. “There is room and to spare for two families.”
“But even if it were not so . . .”
“I. Dared. Not. Promise . . .”
“Well, Resident!” exclaimed Mrs. Havelaar, “there is no doubt about it!”
“It. Her. For. It. Is . . .”
“Even if there were ten of them, so long as they were willing to make the best of things.”
“A. Great. Inconvenience. And. She. Is . . .”
“But travelling in her condition is an impossibility, Resident!”
A violent jerk of the carriage, as it became de-mudded, placed an exclamation mark after Tine’s assertion that travelling was an impossibility for Mrs. Slotering. Everyone had uttered the usual “I say!” that follows such a jerk. Max had found in the lap of his mother the pesang he had lost through the jolt, and they were
- ↑ Bananas.
