“But she looks like——”
“Like Femke! Of course. Like me, too. When Hermann puts on such a cap you can’t tell him from Femke. Come, now. We mustn’t keep mamma waiting.”
On entering the dining-room Walter was met by that quiet cordiality that the doctor had prescribed. When all were seated Sietske mentioned the picture again in apologizing to Walter for hurrying him away from it.
“Yes,” remarked the doctor quietly, “there is some resemblance; but Femke is not so pretty. No, not by a great deal.”
A cold douche!
Walter had never thought of Femke’s beauty. He really did not know whether the girl was pretty, or not.
“Will you take some sauce, Walter?”
She had called him brother, so solemnly, and with such a mien! Of course the lady in the portrait, with the sparkling diadem, would hold out her hand the same way. Walter made an awkward gesture with his hand.
“Salad?” asked Sietske.
“It will be crowded,” said Mevrouw Holsma. “Everyone will want to see the kings and princes. We haven’t asked our guest yet if he wants to go. We’re going to the theatre; would you like to go with us?”