Doorke shook his head.
“Not even to me?”
And she looked at him with such a roguish smile that the boy felt ashamed. Then, to comfort him, she said:
“Nor I either, Doorke. Do you know what I’m going to do?”
“No, Horieneke.”
“Listen, Doorke, I’ll tell you all about it, but promise on your soul not to tell anybody: Bertje, Fonske and all the rest mustn’t know.”
Doorke nodded.
“Father wanted me to go into service down there, with all those wicked people. Then I cried for days and days and prayed to Our Lord; and mother told father that I was dying; and then she said that I might ... Try and guess, Doorke!”
Doorke made no attempt to guess. Then she drew him closer to her and whispered:
“Mother said I might stay at home and help her ... and afterwards, when I am grown up ... I shall become a nun, Doorke, in a convent; but first mother must get another baby, a new Horieneke.... And you?”