ances,” said Karel, under his breath, by way of excuse.
“Ye-e-es, but, Ka-rel, none of the fam-ily. Van der Wel-cke, were you invited, by chance?”
“No.”
“Oh, not you ei-ther? Well, I should have thought that she would have asked Con-stance. . . .”
“Why?” asked Van der Welcke, coldly.
“We-ell, because she used to go to Court, in the old days. And you too, didn’t you, Van der Welcke?”
“Yes, I too,” said Van der Welcke, drily.
“Van der Welcke,” said Karel. “Did you get that card of mine?”
“What card?”
“Why, when you were expected in town, I called and left a card on you.”
“So did I, you know, Van der Welcke,” interrupted Van Saetzema.
“Oh, yes,” said Van der Welcke. “It was very civil of you fellows. Well, I’ll leave a card on you one of these days.”
“Oh, I didn’t mention it for that!” said Van Saetzema.
“I didn’t mention it on that account!” echoed Karel, swelling with geniality. “Only I should have thought it a bore if it had been mislaid.”
“Ye-es,” whimpered Cateau. “Because then it would have looked as if we weren’t friend-ly. . . . How red the bride looks, Saet-ze-ma! That white makes Em-ilie look so very red.”
