“Klomp, here’s the Baroness!” cried Mejuffrouw Skiff, retreating a little before the suddenness of an encounter she had hitherto vainly sought.
“Wish her Nobleness a very good day for me,” replied an uncertain voice from dingy depths unknown.
“Poor man, he’s asleep,” said Adeline, boldly. “Was it anything particular you wanted with him, Mevrouw?”
Ursula smiled. “No, indeed,” she said. “On no account would I disturb his well-earned rest.”
“Well-earned it is,” retorted Adeline, pertly. “His younger daughter’s ill, and he’s been sitting up with her all night.”
Ursula’s manner changed. “Mietje? I am sorry to hear that. Can I see her? What is the matter?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Nothing much, I fancy. You needn’t know what, I suppose, as long as you send the regulation broth.”
Ursula turned away, almost eagerly. That she should meet this woman now! She had lost sight of her and her story, gladly, for years.
“I suppose you don’t remember me, madame,” said Adeline, acidly. She had noticed the quick movement of aversion.