The Van Elsts had thus soon chosen their own friends, and to this select circle they had introduced their guests.
But the Martendijks struck up acquaintance with a family with whom they had no wish to become intimate.
“Good gracious!” said Max, who did not approve of this at all; “what is there in that man to take your fancy?”
“Not much,” replied Martendijk.
“Surely his wife isn’t the attraction, then?—a stupid insignificant creature like that!”
“Yes, she is very stupid,” said Martendijk. “But she is a capital cook,” he added, after a moment.
“Well, but they’re not people to get so very intimate with. Perhaps you don’t know that he has a very shady reputation,—it is well known that he got that factory into his hands by a very dirty trick. They say he made the former owner drunk, and then——”
“That’s very likely true,” interposed Martendijk coolly; “he looks to me just that sort of man. But that does not prevent his keeping capital wine, and being very generous with his help——”
“For any sake hold your tongue!” cried Max, suddenly turning his back on his guest.
But the most violent explosion took place one morning at the breakfast-table, when the conversation turned upon one of their aunts—a sister of Martendijk’s father and Max’s mother—who was in great poverty, and had been very unfortunate.