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Mother's heavy shoes clattered over the floor outside and in again; she put on and took off the iron pots with the goats' food, drew fresh water and made the coffee. Mam'selle Julie was coming along the rough road. "You're in good time!" cried mother from the doorway. "Good-morning, Frazie. Up already, Horieneke? It'll be a fine day to-day."
The spoons began to clatter and the tongues to wag: uncle praised the delicious leek-soup, so did aunt; and then came endless questions from every side about the news of the district and all that had happened during the last ten or twelve years, ever since Frazie had married and left her home.
"Father, we've been out with cousin," said Bertje. They had to take their coffee and their cakebread-and-butter in a hurry: it was time to put the dogs in, said uncle. Doorke said they were put in. Frazie helped her sister on with her things: "You'll find the looking-glass hanging in the window, Stanse. I must go and put on another skirt too and come a bit of the way with you."
"You're all right as you are, Frazie; you've no need to hide your legs nor t'other either: you've a handsome allowance of both," said Uncle Petrus, chaffingly. "I'd like a drop of water for the dogs, though." Father sent the bucket toppling down the well and turned the handle till it rose filled. The dogs stuck their heads into the bucket and lapped and gulped greedily.
And she pinched Bertje's red cheeks. "And you too, Frazie." "Look at the state I'm in!" said mother, sticking her hands under the apron stretched tight across her fat stomach and looking down at her bare legs. "Such a heap to do, no time to dress yet."
The dogs sprang forward, the cart rumbled along and soon the whole thing had become a shapeless black patch among the black trees. In the still night they could just hear the wheels rattling over the cobbles; and then Ivo and Frazie went home again.
Uncle and aunt were extremely pleased with their visit; uncle looked contentedly into the distance and boasted that he had never seen such an evening nor such fine weather so early in the year, while Frazie at each step flung her arms into the air and stopped to say things to Stanse, whose good-natured laugh rang out over the plain and along the road.
Amid the turmoil, the rent-farmer came up to Frazie, took her impudently by the arm, laughingly wished her proficiat with her pretty daughter and, after slyly looking about him for confirmation, said, half in earnest: "We're planting potatoes to-morrow at the Rent Farm, we shall want lots of hands; missie may as well come too." And with that he went back to his game of cards.
Fonske hid his in the drawer, next to the canary-seed, Dolfke his in the cupboard and Bertje shoved his portion into his pockets. It was not long before three or four of them were fighting like thieves and robbers, while Stanse and Frazie went to look at the baby, which lay sleeping quietly in the cradle. First one more drop of cherry-gin apiece and then to dinner.
Father made a remark or two about uncle and aunt and about their village, but got only half-answers from his wife. Then, all of a sudden, he asked: "What did the farmer come and say to you?" Frazie sighed: "They're planting potatoes to-morrow and we were to go and work; and Horieneke was to come too." "Ay." "But she'll stay here!" "What do you mean, stay here?"
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