Ben stared. "How do you know that?"
"Don't you see that pretty red pincushion hanging on yonder door?" asked Lambert in return.
"Yes."
"Well, that's a boy."
"A boy! what do you mean?"
"I mean that here in Haarlem whenever a boy is born, the parents have a red pincushion put out at the door. If our young friend had been a girl instead of a boy the cushion would have been white. In some places they have much more fanciful affairs, all trimmed with lace, and even among the very poorest houses you will see a bit of ribbon or even a string tied on the door-latch——"
"Look!" almost screamed Ben, "there is a white cushion, at the door of that double-jointed house with the funny roof."
"I don't see any house with a funny roof."
"Oh, of course not," said Ben. "I forget you're a native; but all the roofs are queer to me, for that matter. I mean the house next to that green building."
"True enough—there's a girl! I tell you what, captain," called out Lambert, slipping easily into Dutch, "we must get out of this street as soon as possible. It's full of babies! They'll set up a squall in a moment."