“Wat zegt mijnheer,” asked the grandmother, “van de poes en de peper en de tien gulden?”
Assuring her it was merely a ‘plaat’, but one that was ‘erg kostbaar’, I grasped at the analogy of the hours of the day, to do full justice to the expensiveness of the picture. If ten o’clock and a half works out at “half-elf-uur,” it is not hard to reckon what ten guilders-and-a-half ought to be; so I gave it with relish: “En, Juffrouw, wat denkt U? Het kost half-elf-gulden!”
Jaap looked at his watch and shook his head. Then he shook the watch, put it back in his pocket and fastened his eyes again on me.
“Nee, hoor!” exclaimed the mother, who had now begun to help a special dish; “Nee; zoo laat is het niet. Mijnheer O’Neill, neem een stukje pudding—toe dan—heel verteerbaar.”
STARVATION IN THE MIDST OF PLENTY.
My plate was passed along, and was heaped up liberally. Though I waited with my thanks as long as I could, I was obliged to intervene when the plate was piled high enough for any two people. “Nouw, ik bedank!” I ejaculated, making my best bow.
But that caused the guillotine to fall once more. With a gesture of impatience Truitje put away my verteerbaar pudding on a remote side-table. Not the least chance of getting it!
I was starving in the midst of plenty!
As my hosts appeared to be as much impressed with the contrast as I was, I endeavoured to smooth things over a little, and set them more at their ease. Making the best of it, with all the careless grace I could muster I blandly assured them that it didn’t matter. “Het geeft niets—het hindert niet—het komt er niet opaan.”
But they grew huffy and distant—my phrases didn’t do much to relieve the strain—and I was feeling more depressed and famished every minute, when, to my unspeakable relief, up there came the sound of wheels on the gravel, and in a moment I heard Enderby’s voice talking Dutch loudly and confidently in the hall.