Well, what do you think of my dress?”—that Uncle Ruyvenaer said:
“Any one would think that Adolphine had built the Witte Brug herself!”
“I think,” whined Cateau, “Adolph-ine oughtn’t to say all those things her-self, don’t you, Ger-rit?”
“Well,” said Gerrit, “it’s a delightful feeling to be so pleased with your own self and your own children and your own dinner. But, if you think as you do, Cateau, why didn’t you compliment her yourself?”
“Be-cause I think,” whined Cateau, whining worse than usual, “that that dress doesn’t look at all smart on Adolph-ine. What do you think, A-deline?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Adeline, good-naturedly.
“Con-stance, you have such very good taste: do tell me, do you think that dress looks smart?”
“I think Adolphine looks exceedingly well tonight,” said Constance, irritably.
“I say, Sissy, you can’t mean that!” said Gerrit.
“And, even if you don’t think so, Gerrit, it’s not nice of you to speak like that of your sister!”
“Oh, well, a little criticism! . . .”
“Yes, but to be always criticizing one another is horrid, I think,” said Constance, angrily.
“I’m bound to say, though, that I think it a ramshackle party,” said Uncle Ruyvenaer. “Who on earth are all these people?” he continued, putting on dignity, disdainfully. “I say, Toetie, are you enjoying yourself?”
