“Sh! The young lady——”
“What? That girl? What then?”
“Sh! The daughter of—but don’t say a word. Damme if it isn’t so—the daughter of M’neer—Kopperlith!”
“Kopperlith on Keizersgracht? What are you talking about, man! Kopperlith—on Keizersgracht!”
“Yes, of course. Come, we’re going.”
“His daughter? His——natural daughter?”
“That’s right. You understand it now; but keep quiet about it.”
The true Dutch hearts and republicans paid and left the bar.
It was a sudden whim of Klaas Verlaan’s to make his ward a child of Keizersgracht; but it brought him in more ducats than he cared to admit afterward.
Kopperlith? Kopperlith? on Keizersgracht? Femke on Keizersgracht! And on the day after to-morrow he was to begin work for this wealthy gentleman.