“No, I will not hear such things—on account of my daughters!”
The girls were examining their finger nails, and looked preëminently respectable.
“Go ahead, Klaas!”
“If I had known that this was going to happen, I would have left my daughters at home.”
“But, Juffrouw, it’s in the Bible. You’re not opposed to the Bible, are you?”
“No, but I refuse to hear anything that isn’t respectable. My husband——”
“Your husband sold shoes. I know it, Juffrouw, but you’re not going to turn against——”
“I’m not going to do anything against the Bible, but I will not endure such coarseness. Come, Gertrude, come, children!”
Juffrouw Pieterse was climbing the ladder of respectability. Moving out of a side street into one of the principal avenues, giving the children French names, calling in a doctor whose coachman wears furs—that is what lifts us up.