“Well,” said Laurentia, “I will tell you. When last night I found these two young people hugging and kissing in the garden, I sent Anna about her business.”
“Yes,” said the Resident, very anxiously, “and then—”
“Then I just took the opportunity of sounding the young gentleman.”
“Of sounding him?” cried van Gulpendam in dismay.
“Aye, my word was ‘sounding’ ” replied Laurentia, very quietly, “but I tell you there is no dealing with that fellow.”
Thereupon Laurentia told her husband pretty accurately what had taken place the night before in the Pandan grove and under the Tjemara trees, and reported to him the conversation she had there held with Charles van Nerekool. She omitted to tell him—very prudently too—that if she, by chance, had had to deal with a man of laxer morals and principles, she would have run great risk of becoming her daughter’s rival. When her story was ended, her husband heaved a deep sigh and throwing himself back in his chair he said:
“Oh those women, those women! You have gone to work much too rashly,” continued he. “You ought to have tacked about instead of running. No doubt you had a fair chance before you—a very nice south easterly trade—but you have thrown it away. You have gone full tilt at your object, and so have overshot your anchorage!”
“Oh, bother your tacks and runnings and trades and anchorages,” cried fair Laurentia, out of patience, and vexed beyond measure to find that all her fine management was so lightly spoken of. “You just let me alone, that’s the best thing you can do.”
“But,” said the Resident, “you have spoilt the whole job!”
“There was not much to spoil in the job, I can tell you, there was no doing anything with that booby.”