Tidings? What are you telling us?
Cob.
[Almost crying.] There must be tidings of the boys—of—of—the Hope.
Kaps.
Nothing! [Friendlier.] Now, there is no use in your coming to this office day after day. I haven’t any good news to give you, the bad you already know. Sixty-two days——
Cob.
The water bailiff received a telegram. Ach, ach, ach; Meneer Kaps, help us out of this uncertainty. My sister—and my niece—are simply insane with grief. [Trembling violently.]
Kaps.
On my word of honor. Are you running away again?