Ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling went the bell; and the wind must have rushed through the front-door and up the stairs, for the drawing-room door blew open as lightly as though the great door had been no more than a sheet of note-paper; the maid came pounding up the stairs, the stairs creaked, another door slammed; the maid, at the door, screamed out something loud through the house, loud through the wind, loud through all the sounds and colours; another voice sounded sharply in reply; the maid went pounding down again, the stairs creaked and bang went the door:
“Will you please go upstairs, mevrouw?”
“Come upstairs, Cateau!”
“But am I re-ally not disturb-ing you, Adolphine?”
“No, come up.”
“What a wind, eh, Phi-i-ine? Eh? How it’s blow-ing!”
Ta-ta, ta-ta, ta-ta, ta-ta; ta-ta, ta-ta, ta-ta, ta-ta, went Marietje’s scales, as Mamma entered with Aunt Cateau. Whew, boo! blew the wind. C-r-rack, cr-r-rack! went the flagstaff outside the window. . . .
“Good-morn-ing, Marie-tje. And tell me, Phi-i-ine, was it a reg-ular din-ner?”
“Yes, it was a formal dinner.”
“Oh, so they do see peo-ple? And I thought they lived so qui-etly. We are nev-er asked there; are you, Adolph-ine?”
“No, never.”
“I do think she might al-so some-times show a
