The waiter reappeared just then, and Enderby interposed, “Mynheer heeft iets besteld, nietwaar? Wat is dat voor een drankje? Geen limonade?”
MELOEN MET APPELMOES.
“Nee, menheer”, said the waiter in a complaining tone, “volstrekt niet, mynheer is wat vreemd, ziet u; want,” and here his voice sank to a horrified whisper, “menheer eet meloen met appelmoes!”
Enderby looked at me in speechless astonishment; while the waiter murmured, perhaps as a further suggestion of guilt on my part: “We hebbe geen paling!”
Matters had got so involved that I could not explain anything to him; except to say that I had started with the intention of cooling my thirst with lemon squash.
He was inclined to be huffy once more. “There you are at it again! Look here now; do take some care about what you say. I’ll get that drink for you this time; and, for any sake if you want ‘kwast’ again, don’t say appelmoes. Indeed I strongly advise you to stick to English, or you will get into worse trouble yet.”
Enderby went off in high dudgeon, and I took a long ramble under the trees. It was not long till I shook off the effects of my grammatical skirmishes and began to enjoy the day to the full.
In point of fact I made several sketches, and returning in a couple of hours had luncheon successfully. That was comparatively easy. I had merely to say, “Koffie!—Kaas!”—and the meal was ready.
DRIVE ME TO THE HAGUE.
Being by this time a trifle tired, I conceived the idea of driving back to the Hague, for it seemed too far to walk. In this design I was encouraged by the presence of a considerable number of vehicles with horses, standing about.