It was then I began to notice how grave she was, and silent.
But I must say, nobody could be more devoted than she was to the youthful invalid.
He awoke rather early after his timely sleep, but much calmer. And—a good sign—he had a healthy ‘trek’, which we were gratified to see in operation upon ‘beschuit’ and ‘melk’, before his mother arrived to resume the reins of authority.
THE DISCOURAGED SUITOR.
As we escorted Kathleen to her hotel in the cool of the morning, we found her singularly irresponsive, not to say depressed; and I somehow got wind of the fact that van Leeuwen, who had motored up to the Hague, on hearing of her father’s accident, had been prowling about the Vieux Doelen ever since. He had visited Dr. MacNamara almost every day; but Kathleen had kept studiously aloof.
“I know he likes father,” she said, “and I’m glad he came so often to see him. Not very interesting, otherwise! In any case he has suddenly vanished into space!”
The evening before, when she was on her way to my landlady’s to watch by the sick boy, van Leeuwen had met her right in front of the Mauritshuis. But she had treated him with such stately indifference, and greeted his remarks with such frigid courtesy, that the good-natured fellow was really hurt. He had in fact returned the same evening to Arnhem.
Kathleen said she was very glad, except for her father’s sake. But she didn’t give one the impression of being enthusiastic about it, and I drew my own conclusions.
WILL KATHLEEN STUDY DUTCH?
On reaching the Doelen, we found a hasty scrawl from the very man we had been talking of—van Leeuwen—inviting Terence and myself to a cycling tour in his neighbourhood.