“Whoever wants to get acquainted with God,” said Father Jansen, “must study diligently.”
“To be sure,” said Mrs. Claus, “the articles of faith. You ought to hear my Femke repeat them. It’s a pleasure, isn’t it, father? She’s my only child, but—she’s a girl worth having!”
“Yes, Femke is an excellent girl. I don’t have any trouble with her.”
The father spoke in a business-like manner; and he meant it that way. The spots on Femke’s soul were easily removed. He praised Femke as a cook would praise a kitchen-pot.
Father Jansen had still more praise for Femke: she had patched his drawers so nicely.
Oh, Fancy!
The mention of this fact did not touch Walter’s æsthetic feelings. With him there were other considerations. Fancy was used to seeing everything nude—fathers, humanity—so there was no difficulty here.
Walter was sixteen years old, already a little man—why must Femke patch drawers for this father!
“Yes,” said the mother. “Femke is clever at patching. If you’ve got anything else that needs mending, just send it over.”
Walter was warm. If it had been collars, socks, waistcoats, or—well, if it had to be something questionable—if it had only been trousers!