“But why? His marriage can have nothing to do with Mr. Meidema.”
“No, njonja; but—” said the Chinaman dropping his voice, “You see there is something about an opium business in which the poor boy has got mixed up.”
“I will have nothing whatever to do with that sort of thing!” exclaimed Mrs. Meidema now fairly frightened. “There, babah, please put those samples up again.”
The Chinaman was taken aback, he reluctantly rolled up the parcel and slowly and deliberately put it into his pocket.
“But, njonja,” he mumbled, “the poor fellow is as innocent as the babe unborn.”
“I won’t hear anything about it, babah, not another word, please, on the subject.”
“If only the toean Assistant Resident would hear what he has to say,” insisted Lim Yang Bing.
“Come, mother,” whispered Gesina, who, to her infinite vexation saw the splendid silk dress fading away on the horizon, “If father would but hear what Lim Ho has to say for himself.”
Mrs. Meidema again hesitated.
“Well,” said she, “if my intercession is to go no further than that—I can see no objection to ask my husband to do that.”