Tja; since four o’clock this morning. Nothing—Aunt—all rotten.
Kneir.
We poor people are surely cursed—rain—rain—the crops had to rot—they couldn’t be saved—and so we go into the winter—the cruel winter—Ach,—Ach,—Ach!
Jo.
There! You’re worrying again. Come, Mother, laugh. Am I ever sad? Geert may return at any moment.
Kneir.
Geert—and what then?
Jo.
What then? Then—then—then, nothing! Cheer up! You don’t add to your potatoes by fretting and grumbling. I have to talk like this all day to keep up her spirits—See, I caught a rabbit!
Clem.