“You aren’t angry because I say so?”
“No, not at all, Dien; I am very glad he is in your good books.”
“Sleep you won’t for yet awhile, eh? You see, in the daytime I am always too busy, and now it’s just a nice time for a snug chat. And Dien may give you a bit of advice, eh? You see, I have been married too, and it isn’t all honey, child. Yes; at first you think ’tis very nice to play the wifie, but later on come the youngsters, and the cares come with them; I have had three of them you see. And what a bother it is to bring them up! And you know I haven’t had much pleasure of them. One died, a boy, when he was fourteen, and the other wasn’t quite what he ought to be, and went to the Indies. Only my girl—yes, she’s a good girl; you know, she’s in Rotterdam, married to a tailor.”
“Yes, Dien.”
“And, I say, when do you think you will marry?”
“Oh, Dien! really I don’t know yet. We won’t get married for a long while yet, and you mustn’t chatter about it; do you hear?”
“No, no; don’t you fear. You see, Bet too, she isn’t blind either. Do you think it will be a twelvemonth yet?”
“Oh, quite. But come, Dien, go to bed now.”
“Yes, deary. But you see, when the youngsters come, those little fair-haired dots—you are both of you so fair—I shall leave your ma, and come to stay with you. What do you say to that?”
“What, as nursemaid? No, thank you, you will be much too old for that then.”