“I don’t know and I don’t care whether my husband’s a Dutchman or a double Dutchman by birth; all I know is he’s a very good husband to me and a good father to his child; and I thank God, Mr Luke Vine, every night that things are just as they are; so that’s all I’ve got to say.”
“Tut—tut! tut—tut! This is all very dreadful, Van,” said Uncle Luke, fastening his basket, and examining his old straw hat to see which was the best side to wear in front; “I can’t stand any more of this. Here, do you want a bit of advice?”
“Yes, if it’s good.”
“Ah! I was forgetting: about the Count. Keep the curb tight and keep him in use.”
“I shall do both, Luke, for George’s sake,” said Van Heldre warmly.
“Good, lad!—I mean, more fool you!” said Uncle Luke, stumping out after ignoring extended hands and giving each a nod. “That’s all.”
He left the room, closing the door after him as loudly as he could without the shock being considered a bang; and directly after the front door was served in the same way, and they saw him pass the window.
“Odd fish, Luke,” said Van Heldre.
“Odd! I sometimes think he’s half mad.”
“Nonsense, my dear; no more mad than Hamlet. Here he is again.”