The Good Comrade. Una L. Silberrad
the Van Heigens' house. They did not walk in the wide, clean road, but were careful to keep to the path, pausing a moment to consult before starting for the other side when it was necessary to cross over.
The Van Heigens' house stood on the outskirts of the town, a long way back from the road. The bulb garden lay all round it, though immediately in front was a lawn so soft and green that no one ever walked on it. The house was of wood, painted white, and had a high-pitched roof of strange, dark-coloured tiles; a canal lay on two sides, which ought to have made it damp, but did not.
Vrouw Van Heigen was pleased to see the girls, and received them with an effusiveness which might have suggested that a longer time than four days had elapsed since they last met. She kissed them on both cheeks, and led them in by the hand; she asked particularly how they were, and how their mother was, and how their father was, and if they were not very tired with their walk, and would they not have lemonade—yes, they must have lemonade. "Julia, Julia," she called, "bring lemonade, bring glasses and the lemonade."
Julia came from a little room which led off the sitting-room, carrying the things required on a papier-maché tray. She wore a large, blue-print apron, for she had been shelling shrimps when she was called, and though she stayed to wash her hands, she did not think it necessary to remove her apron. She had observed it to be the custom hereabouts to wear an apron of some sort all day long, and she did not differentiate between the grades of aprons as Denah and Anna did. She set down the tray and shook hands ceremoniously with the sisters and made all the proper inquiries in the properest way; she had also observed that to be the custom of the place. Then she poured out the lemonade and handed it round, and was afterwards sent to fetch a glass for herself and a little round tray to set it on—every one had a little tray for fear of spoiling the crimson plush table-cover. Julia cannot be said to have been anxious for lemonade; Vrouw Van Heigen's growing affection for her often found expression in drinks at odd times, a good deal more often than she appreciated. On this occasion, since she was doing the pouring out herself, she was able to get off with half a glass.
They all sat round the table and talked; Julia talked a great deal the least, but that did not matter, the others had so much to say. She listened, admiring the way in which one little incident—a dog running on the tram line and being called off just in time by its owner—served them for a quarter of an hour. What economy of ideas it was, and how little strain to make conversation! Then came Mevrouw's throat, the little hoarseness Denah had noticed on Tuesday. It was nothing, the good lady declared, she had not felt it. Oh, if they insisted on noticing it, she would own to a weakness but no more than was usual to her when the dust was about, and truly the dust was terrible now, she could not remember when it had been so bad so early in June. And so on, and so on, until they somehow came round to crochet lace, when Julia was obliged to confess that she had not made much progress with the pattern. She exhibited a very small piece with several mistakes in it.
"Why," cried Denah, "I have done already almost half a metre of the piece I began at the same time. Is it difficult for you?"
Julia said it was, and Vrouw Van Heigen added by way of apology for her, that she had been busy making a cool morning dress.
"For yourself?" Anna asked. "Do you make your dresses?"
"This is for Mevrouw," Julia answered; "but I can make my own."
The Polkingtons had had to, and also to put an immense amount of thought and work into it, because they were bound to get a fine effect for a small expense, and that is not possible without a large outlay of time and consideration. Julia did not explain this to the present company, it would have been rather incomprehensible to them.
Anna was at once fired with a desire to make herself a cool morning dress, and asked a dozen questions as to how, while Denah's busy fingers undid the faulty crochet work, and her tongue explained the mistakes. Mevrouw did not listen much to either, but noticing the glasses were empty, pressed the visitors in vain to have more lemonade. They refused, and finding them quite obdurate she toddled into the little room where Julia had been doing the shrimps, to come back again, bearing a large bladder-covered bottle of peach-brandy. The girls declined this very firmly, but Julia was sent for more glasses, and soon they were all sipping the rich flavoured liqueur without protestation.
It was over this that they planned an expedition to the wood. No one knew quite who suggested it; when people all talk at once it is not easy to say who originates an idea; anyhow, it was agreed that the weather was so dry and the trees so lovely and Mevrouw so seldom went out. She really felt—did she not?—that she would enjoy making a small excursion, she was so wonderfully well—for her. What did Anna think her mother would say? Perhaps they might join together for a drive?
Anna thought her mother would be delighted; indeed, she often spoke of the charms of a country excursion; Denah was called upon to corroborate, and did so volubly. Where should they go? Half-a-dozen different places were suggested; why not go here, or there, or to the wood? Yes, the wood, that would be lovely. They could take their tea out; if they were well wrapped up, of course, protected from the damp and the wind, might it not be possible?
So by degrees the plan was brought to the first stage. Denah and Anna were to talk it over with their mother, and if she thought favourably of it, then "we must see." By that time Denah had set the crochet work quite straight, and with kisses and hand-shakings the visitors departed. Julia went back to the little room where first she washed the glasses that had been used, afterwards she finished the shrimps and washed them and put them ready for supper in a china dish like a large soap dish on three feet. When that was done, it was necessary to lay the table for dinner and superintend the getting of that meal.
The Van Heigens dined at four. It had taken Julia all the month she had been with them to in any way get used to that time. Mijnheer and the only son, Joost, came in from the office for two hours then. The office joined the house and the great dim orderly bulb barns joined the office, so the father and son had not far to come in whichever place they might be. Julia and Mevrouw fetched the food from the kitchen and cleared the table, as well as getting their own meal; but that was nothing when you were used to it, any more than was the curious butter and nutmeg sauce that always seemed to play a part at dinner.
Mijnheer had a good deal to say to Julia, principally about his business. The letters she had written for him during the illness of the clerk who usually did his English correspondence, had given her some little insight into it. This she had profited by, being in the first instance really interested, and, in the second, not slow to see that the old man, far from resenting it, had been pleased. He talked a good deal about his affairs now, giving her little bits of information and explaining rather proudly his method of doing business, and his father's and his grandfather's before him. Joost, as usual, said little or nothing; he must have been five or six and twenty, but he had hardly ever left the parental roof, and was usually so hard at work that he had little time or inclination for frivolity. He had earnest child-like blue eyes that Julia did not care to look at, any more than she did the round yellow face of Mr. Gillat's watch. This was rather a pity as she could not always avoid it, and certainly he looked at her a good deal, in fact whenever he thought he was not observed. Of course he always was observed, by her at least; that was a foregone conclusion; the observation gave her some uneasiness.
After dinner the father and son went to sit on the veranda, and Mevrouw helped Julia take the dishes into the white marble kitchen and the glasses into the little off-room. Later, Julia came to sit on the veranda, too—it was somewhat stuffy being all closed in with glass windows. There they drank pale tea, the pot kept simmering on a spirit-stove, and read the foreign papers which had just come. Mevrouw did not read, she made tea and did crochet work, a strip like Vrouw Snieder's, only yellow instead of red. Julia, it is to be feared, did not try to master the pattern so kindly set right by Denah; she could not resist the breath from the outside world which the papers brought.
At six o'clock Mijnheer and his son went back to the office, and Julia, having washed the tea-cups, joined Mevrouw in the sitting-room. It was never very light in that room, for the walls were covered with a crimson flock paper and the woodwork was black; while the windows, which looked on the canal, were always shaded till dark. They sat here at work on the morning gown, till supper time. Mijnheer sometimes