"To Driebergen? . . ."
"Yes, dear. Old Mrs. van der Welcke hasn't been quite so well lately. . . ."
"Is she dead?"
"No, no, Mamma. . . . She's only a little un-well. . . ."
The old woman nodded her head comprehendingly. She had already seen Constance standing yonder by the dying woman's sickbed, but she did not say so . . . because Adeline would have refused to believe it. . . .
Another afternoon, Cateau said:
"Mam-ma . . . it's ve-ry sad, but old Mrs. Friese-teijn. . . ."
"Oh, I haven't seen her . . . for ever so long; and. . . ."
"Yes. And it's ve-ry sad, Mam-ma, because she was a friend of yours. And, Mam-ma, peo-ple are saying that she's ill and that she won't last very long."
The old woman nodded knowingly:
"Yes, I knew about it," she said.
"Oh?" said Cateau, round-eyed. "Has somebody told you? . . ."
"No, but . . ."
The old lady had seen her, had seen her old friend dying; and she nearly committed herself, nearly betrayed herself to Cateau.
"What?" asked Cateau.
