My paws are dirty, children.
Kneir.
That’s nothing. A little dry sand doesn’t matter—will you sit down?
Bos.
Glad to do so—Yes, Kneir, my girl, we’re getting older every day—Good day, little niece.
Jo.
Good day, Meneer. [Points, laughing, to her hands.] You see——
Bos.
Have you put on gloves for the dance?
Jo.