but then you must . . . b-boil the n-nice little egg for me . . . and put it before me . . . put my n-nice little egg before me! . . ."
Constance was laughing too; the children all kept on laughing, like mad, not really knowing what they were laughing at, now that they were all laughing together; and Adeline, Adeline . . .
"L-look!" said Gerrit, pointing to his wife. "L-look!"
And, while Constance took the egg out of the boiler, she looked round at Adeline. The little mother was still overcome with her fit of silent giggling; the tears rolled down her cheeks; the children around her were screaming with the fun of it.
"I n-never in all my l-life, Connie," said Gerrit, "saw Line laugh . . . as she's laughing at that n-nice little egg of yours. . . ."
And he started afresh. He roared. But she had put his plate in front of him. He now played the clown, took up his spoon, said in a pretty little voice that sounded humorously in his great roaring throat:
"Thank you kindly, Constance . . . for your n-nice little egg. . . . It's too sweet of you! . . ."
And he nipped at his nice little egg with small, careful spoonfuls, pretending to be very weak and very fragile; and the children, seeing their big, burly father nipping at the nice little egg with dainty little
