“Put him aside, and your bids will fall instead of rising,” insisted his wife.
“No doubt they will—”
“And then, my dear Gulpie,” said Laurentia, with a laugh, “you may whistle for your bertes knabbeldat.”
“Just so,” said he, moodily.
“But, if that be so,” persisted Laurentia, “it seems to me that Lim Ho must not be found guilty. He must be got off at any price, that’s my way of looking at it.”
“You are perfectly right, my dear,” replied the Resident, “and it is precisely for the purpose of getting him off, that I shall want van Nerekool’s help. If he should become our son-in-law—or if the mere prospect of such a thing were to be held up to him—then—I have already told you, that I intend—as soon as Zuidhoorn is out of the way, to appoint him president of the court pro tem.”
“Yes,” broke in Laurentia, hastily, “but he won’t hear of it.”
“Won’t hear of it?” said her husband, slowly, and in surprise.
“No, he won’t hear of it.”
“How do you know that?”