"Did she see you?" asked Marjon, quickly perceiving the significance of the event.
"She surely did."
"Don't look round," said Marjon. "Cut around the corner! Can she do anything to you?"
Johannes had not thought about that, at all. He owned to himself, that while his Aunt Seréna was looking at him, he felt ashamed of being seen with the circus-wagon, but he said nothing, and grasped Marjon's hand again, for he had let it drop.
Fortunately Markus did not tell him to ask if there was anything at "Vrede-best" to be sharpened.
But that pale face, with the puffs, the spectacles, the clear eyes, as seen in the little mirror, continued to follow Johannes in a very disconcerting way. The reflector was double, and Johannes felt certain that his aunt now sat before the other side, and that the fixed eyes were watching him.
"Have you any aunts, Marjon?"
"How do I know? Maybe," laughed Marjon.
"Your father, then?—Is he dead?"
Marjon lowered her voice a little, and, in a more serious manner, began a confidential explanation of an important matter: "I do not know, Jo. My mother is dead. She was a lion-tamer, and met with an accident. She is buried in Keulen; but my father was rich, and he may be living still. So you see I may have aunts—a lot of them—rich ones, perhaps."