Truitje didn’t say a word, but pushed a schaaltje of these light refreshments towards me.
I did secure two; but in a moment they were finished. You see, a schuimpje doesn’t last very long, when you are really hungry.
Then the mother complained, courteously, of my slender appetite: “Mijnheer wil niets gebruiken.”
“O ja,” I interrupted, “integendeel! Heel graag. Alstublieft.” And to show I meant it, I asked for another cup of tea. “Mag ik beleefdelijk vragen om een andere kop?” Here I reached cup and saucer towards them.
VOOR DE PRONK.
That certainly created a diversion. They looked blankly at one another, till the grandmother—she was very hearty—called out with a cheerful laugh, “Hé, ja. Dat’s waar ook. De Engelsche koppen zijn groot.”
“Truitje,” she whispered in an audible aside. “Breng even een Engelsche kom. Ze staan in de kast.”
“Zie zoo. Mijnheer,” she continued to me with a pleasant smile. “Nouw, Mijnheer wil zeker nog wat thee hebben? Nouw, niet bedanken, hoor.”
“Oh ja,” I replied joyfully, “Schiet op—Als’tublieft—dank U. Dank U—heelemaal!”
Holding the tea-pot poised in her hand, she looked at me appealingly, but in doubt. “Wat? heus?” she said.