She jumped up, “May I light it for you, father?” she said.
She put the cheroot to her lips, lighted a match, and drew a few whiffs. As the smoke went curling up her nostrils and into her eyes, she made a funny little grimace—then she coughed slightly and closed her eyes, and, when the cigar was well lighted, she gave it to her father saying:
“Ah bah, horrid! How can you gentlemen like that nasty smoke?”
“Why you little minx!” said her father laughing, “you have lit it at the wrong end!”
“It is more economical, father.”
“Perhaps so; but that is why it tastes nasty.”
“Well, father,” said Matilda suddenly growing serious, “now please sit down and attend to mother.”
“Yes, Meidema, please sit down,” said his wife; “I have to talk to you on a most serious matter.”
“All right, wifey—here I am seated—now I am all ears.”
“Babah Lim Yang Bing has been here this morning!”