A moment later Lim Ho’s confidential servant again stood before him.
“Before you go to look for Singo,” said the master, “you must go to the house of MʻBok Kârijâh, and you must tell her that I want to see her here as soon as possible.”
“Saja-babah,” said Drono, as again he made the sembah.
“Yes,” cried Lim Ho, impatiently, “but be off at once. Saja-babah.”
The next day, MʻBok Kârijâh entered the Residence, and asked to see the njonja besar, or great lady. She was admitted at once, for it was morning, and Laurentia had just finished attending to her household duties, and had given out all that was needful to the cook. She was at that moment engaged in changing her morning kabaai for another one, made of fine lawn trimmed with lace. Indeed, the lady’s doors were never closed to the old quack, and she would always receive her, at any hour of the day, if she could possibly do so.
“Good morning, njoonjaa,” said the old woman, in that drawling tone so peculiar to the obsequious Javanese, while she squatted down at the European lady’s feet.
“Tabeh nènèh,” replied Laurentia.
“Did the obat have the desired effect?” began the old hag.
“Oh yes,” replied Laurentia; “it worked admirably, you must let me have a good supply of it.”
“That is what I intended to do, njonja, but the ingredients, you know, are so difficult to get, they are so expensive.”