“Vy, vat vas der wrong aboud me, Mees Dorotee?” pleaded Portveldt “I vas feery yoyful in mein mind tinking dot you did loaf me some liddle bid. I have mooch money; mein haus in Batavia is mosd peautiful, und you shall have plendy servands to do all dot you vish. Oh, Mees Dorotee! vat can be wrong mid me?”
“There is nothing that I object to in you, sir, except that I do not love you. Really you cannot expect me to marry you because I have seen you half a dozen times and have treated you with politeness.”
“I do hobe, Mees Dorotee, dot id is not because of dot yong mans who vas so oncivil to me yoost now dot you vill not haf me. He vas dell me to go to der tuyvel ven I did say 'goot morning' yoost now.”
“It is no young man, sir. Mr. Foster is a person for whom I have a great regard, but I do not intend to marry him. I will only marry a gentleman.
“Oh, bud, Mees Dorotee, am I not a yentle-mans?”
“I do not consider masters of merchantmen gentlemen,” replied Dolly with a slight sniff. “My father is an officer in the King's service, and I have been taught to——”
“Ha, ha! Mees Dorotee,” laughed Portveldt good-humouredly, “dot is nod so. Your baba is but a gommissary who puys de goots vich I bring me from Batavia to sell.”
“How dare you talk like that, sir? My father is a King's officer, and before he came here he fought for his country.”
“Veil, Mees Dorotee, I do beg your pardon mooch, and I vill vight vor mein country if you vil learn to loaf me on dot account.”
But Miss Dolly would listen no more, and, with a ceremonious bow, walked away. Then the Dutch merchant went to the Commissary's office to talk the matter over with her father, who told him that he would not interfere in his daughter's choice; if he could not make himself agreeable to her, neither her father nor mother could help him.