“What, in your lap?” said Margaret, answering a gesture of the suffering girl. “Nay, he is too heavy, and thou in such pain.”
“I love him too dear to feel his weight,” was the reply.
Margaret took this opportunity, and made her toilet. “I am for the kerk,” said she, “to hear a beautiful preacher.” Kate sighed. “And a minute ago, Kate, I was all agog to go; that is the way with me this month past; up and down, up and down, like the waves of the Zuyder Zee. I'd as lieve stay aside thee; say the word!”
“Nay,” said Kate, “prithee go; and bring me back every word. Well-a-day that I cannot go myself.” And the tears stood in the patient's eyes. This decided Margaret, and she kissed Kate, looked under her lashes at the boy, and heaved a little sigh. “I trow I must not,” said she. “I never could kiss him a little; and my father was dead against waking a child by day or night When 'tis thy pleasure to wake, speak thy aunt Kate the two new words thou hast gotten.” And she went out, looking lovingly over her shoulder, and shut the door inaudibly.
“Joan, you will lend me a hand, and peel these?” said Catherine.
“That I will, dame.” And the cooking proceeded with silent vigour.
“Now, Joan, them which help me cook and serve the meat, they help me eat it; that's a rule.”
“There's worse laws in Holland than that. Your will is my pleasure, mistress; for my Luke hath got his supper i' the air. He is digging to-day by good luck.” (Margaret came down.)
“Eh, woman, yon is an ugly trade. There she has just washed her face and gi'en her hair a turn, and now who is like her? Rotterdam, that for you!” and Catherine snapped her fingers at the capital. “Give us a buss, hussy! Now mind, Eli won't wait supper for the duke. Wherefore, loiter not after your kerk is over.”
Joan and she both followed her to the door, and stood at it watching her a good way down the street. For among homely housewives going out o' doors is half an incident. Catherine commented on the launch: “There, Joan, it is almost to me as if I had just started my own daughter for kerk, and stood a looking after: the which I've done it manys and manys the times. Joan, lass, she won't hear a word against our Gerard; and he be alive, he has used her cruel; that is why my bowels yearn for the poor wench. I'm older and wiser than she; and so I'll wed her to yon simple Luke, and there an end. What's one grandchild?”