“H’m!” he said then, “... we must just think over that ... one ought to know what one is about!”
It was a very busy day for Geutruu, when Mam’selle Marianne, the Curé’s sister, came to coffee. She had baked special cakes—vlaai and krintemik; and, when her guest had arrived, she went herself to fetch Mathis out of his workshop. Mathis laid aside his apron, wiped his forehead with it, and followed his wife indoors.
“Serviteur, Joffer Marianneke,” said he, accomplishing with some difficulty an awkward kind of bow.
“I’ve just looked in to see how you are getting on, Master Knoups,” said the Curé’s sister, taking a bite at her slice of currant-loaf.
“Very kind, I’m sure, Joffer Marianneke! and I wish you a good appetite!” replied Knoups.
“To-morrow M. le Curé is going round with the alms-bag, Master Knoups, for the new roof to the church. Are you going to give something too?”
“H’m, h’m! If M. le Curé does not pass my door, we’ll see what we shall do, Joffer Marianneke!”
Next day came M. le Curé with the alms-bag.
“Master Knoups, I am going to all our parishioners.” He emphasised the “all.” “Will you contribute something towards the new roof for the church?”
Now that Knoups was standing before his enemy, it seemed as though something boiled up in him,—as though he would have to say something quite different from what he had thought out beforehand,—and yet there was such a tightness at his throat that he could not bring out a word.