Saart.
If one goes, we all go. Together we won’t blow away. Good night, Kneir.
Marietje.
[Depressed.] Good night, Aunt Kneir.
Kneirtje.
Thank you again, Miss, for the soup and eggs.
Truus.
Are you coming to drink a bowl with me tomorrow night? Please say yes.
Kneirtje.
Well, perhaps. Good night, Miss. Good night, Marietje. Good night, Saart. If you see Jo send her in at once. [All go out except Kneirtje. She clears away the cups. A fierce wind howls, shrieking about the house. She listens anxiously at the window, shoves her chair close to the chimney, stares into the fire. Her lips move in a muttered prayer while she fingers a rosary. Jo enters, drops into a chair by the window and nervously unpins her shawl.]