“Yes, but tell me,” she insisted, “from whom is it?”
“It is from my brother Gerard,” replied van Gulpendam shortly.
“And what is it about?” asked Laurentia; “now don’t keep me waiting, it is not gallant.”
At the word gallant, van Gulpendam made a wry face, “Oh,” said he, “it is about the matter of the Netherland’s Lion. Nothing can come to it—unless—”
“Yes, unless what?” inquired Laurentia.
“Unless the opium monopoly at Santjoemeh, can be made to bring in a great deal more money than it does at present. The estimates of our colonial secretary are not at all approved of, and they reckon upon getting a couple of millions more from that source.”
“They, they, who are they?” continued Laurentia.
“Why—Sidin, pull down the blinds!” said the resident prudently. “That sun,” continued he, “is so troublesome shining through the venetians. You ask who are they? Why they are the government, the ministers, the Lower House in fact.”
“Oh,” said Laurentia, carelessly, “is that all?”
“Is that all! of course it is,” replied her husband grumpily, “quite enough too, you know as well as I do that the farmer pays more than twelve hundred thousand guilders for his privilege.”