“Mamma, this is a young gentleman—oh, I must know your name. What is your name?”
“Walter Pieterse.”
“This is Mr. Walter Pieterse, who has come to thank papa, because he—he was sick; and he—the young gentleman is going to stay for dinner, papa?”—the doctor nodded again—“and he’s going to stay for dinner, mamma.”
“With mamma’s consent,” said the father.
“Yes, with mamma’s consent.”
Mevrouw Holsma spoke to Walter kindly and offered him a chair. It was necessary, too.
Everything seemed so princely to Walter that he was glad to be seated. Three-fourths of his little figure was hidden under the table. That was something gained. He was amazed at almost everything he saw and heard. He folded his hands.
“Do you want to say a grace, little man?” asked the doctor.
“Yes, M’nheer,” Walter stammered.
“A good custom. Do you always do that at the table?”