"More," said Marjon.
"That cannot be."
Then there was another long pause. The boat was not in a hurry, neither was the sun, and the broad stream made even less haste. And so the children, as well, took plenty of time in their talking.
"Yes, but you see," Johannes began again, "when people speak of our Father, they mean God, and God is...."
What was it again, that Windekind had said about God? The thought came to him, and clothed in the old terms. But Johannes hesitated. The terms were surely not attractive.
"What is God, now?" asked Marjon.
The old jargon must be used. There was nothing better.
"... An oil-lamp, where the flies stick fast."
Marjon whistled—a shrill whistle of authority—a circus-command. Keesje, who was sitting on the foremast, thoughtfully inspecting his outstretched hind foot, started up at once, and came sliding down the steel cable, in dutiful haste.
"Here, Kees! Attention!"