“That does not apply to me, you may trust me, njaa.”
“No, no,” replied Mrs. Steenvlak, “I will trust no one—Anna was particularly anxious that I should not speak.”
“But, perhaps she is in need of my help, njaa. Where can she be? She is not fit to take care of herself, she is not accustomed to it. Do tell me,” sobbed the poor girl again, “I must find my Nana.”
“No,” said Mrs. Steenvlak firmly, “a promise once made must not be broken, you know that as well as I do, Dalima.”
For all her firmness, the kind-hearted lady was deeply moved by the devotion of the poor creature, who had already gone through so much suffering in her little life, that it was a wonder her temper had not been soured altogether by misfortune. She was half sorry that she had given her word to Anna; but yet, until she was authorised to do so, she did not feel justified in breaking silence.
“The best advice I can give you,” she said at length, as she looked with much compassion at the girl who sat sobbing at her feet, “is to return at once to Santjoemeh, or better still to Kaligaweh. Can I do anything for you to help you on your journey back?”
Baboe Dalima sadly shook her head.
“Come, come, you will want some money on the road, eh?” and opening her purse she took out four rix-dollars and put them into the girl’s hand.
Without uttering a word, Dalima accepted the gift, and carefully tied up the money in her handkerchief. Then she rose, respectfully kissed Mrs. Steenvlak’s hand, and disappeared.
As soon as she got outside, she muttered, “That gives me so many more days to look for Nana.”