There being great need of haste, Master Dinu told his wife to call Ana, their daughter, that she might help to damp the sandals.
The mistress, who was holding the skins to make it easier for Dinu to cut out the straps, and trim them after cutting out, put her hands on her hips and looked at her husband.
“What, my Ana damp the sandals?”
At his wife’s words Master Dinu stayed the knife in the middle of the skin.
“She is not a smart lady, is she, and you are not going to marry her to some grandee? There is no disgrace to her in coming to give a little help.”
His wife lost her temper. Her daughter damp sandals! Her daughter associate with the men! Her daughter, who had gone to school to the nuns for so many years! Her daughter, who knew how to sew so beautifully! Her daughter, who was friends with the niece of one important person, and the inseparable companion of the daughters of another! Her daughter to handle the sandals and make her fingers smell of bark!
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” she said, hoarse with anger, “even if you do not know how to behave properly, you need not insult your daughter.”
“Insult?” questioned Master Dinu.
But his wife rushed from the room.
He looked long after her, then glanced at the workmen, took up the knife with a nervous movement, and began quickly to cut out the sandals.