NEBBETJES.
“Mynheer!” I replied, “Ik wensch U goeden morgen.”
In the momentary pause that I was obliged to make, to get my polite phrase properly by the end, he rose up and said in an encouraging, friendly manner, “Wat wou Mynheer?”
“Mynheer”, I returned, confident in the correctness of phrase number two, “Mag ik U beleefd verzoeken mij mede te deelen, verkoopt jullie nebben—of nebs?”
He eyed me steadily for half a minute and then exclaimed:
“Blief?”
I said “Blief” too.
But I had to go over it again. He shook his head: “Nebs—Nebs? Wat bedoelt Mynheer?”
“Heeft UE nebs,—of nebben?” I said—“of nebbetjes?”
The last variations were of my own invention, thrown out as suggestions merely in order to make sure of catching the correct plural. The Grammar—Boyton, you know—had been strong on diminutives; hence I thought “nebbetjes” might make things clear. Apparently it did, for a deep voice at my elbow said, “Voor paling”, and I turned round to see a red-faced sailor with rings in his ears, nodding and smiling. “Ja, ja, ik weet het wel,” he said to the shopman; “Mynheer gaat visschen,” adding confidentially for my benefit, “Engelsman always feesh.”