“Hush—hush!” whispered Madame van Raat, “there’s some one coming.”
It was Henk, who opened the door of the boudoir, and was surprised to find it so late. Eline laughed at him, and asked him if he had had sweet dreams.
“You eat too much, that’s it that makes you so lazy in the evening. You should see what a lot he eats!”
“There, mother, do you hear how your son is talked to in his own house, even by his little sis-in-law? Oh, you don’t know what a troublesome child it is!”
“You had better not say any more about that; your ma won’t hear anything against me, not even from her beloved Henk—eh? Just you dare to say that I am wrong!”
She looked at the old lady with so much childlike freshness in her bright eyes, and in her bearing, and such a warm glow of sympathy seemed all at once to emanate from her whole being, that Madame van Raat could no longer restrain herself from embracing her.
“You are a dear,” she said, happy in the genial warmth of the affection of old age for the bright sun of youth. [[64]]
Betsy, when she came down, apologized for having been detained so long, and asked if mamma would not rather drink tea in the drawing-room—there was more room there.
“Paul was coming too, later on,” said Madame van Raat, as Eline placed a marble footstool under her feet. “Then you must have a little music together, Elly, will you?”
“Yes—with pleasure.”