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But I remained obdurate and would not let myself be saved and even concealed myself from all callers, faithfully assisted therein by Jan Baars, whose good Dutch qualities beneath his apparent unpleasantness I learned to respect. Jan Baars was the touchstone so to speak, the training that taught me to tolerate a Dutch environment.
Without the schooling of Jan Baars I could not have endured my present life. He was a boor, a dolt, a dirty lout, a narrow-minded churl, but he did all sorts of kind and generous things.
An old faithful servant from "The Toelast" has, after the death of Jan Baars, gone over into my employ, and she cooks deliciously and cares for me as for her own child. And the long, solemn, solitary evenings in my quiet house with my books, papers, memories and a little music are never too long for me.
"Who? Jan Baars? Why no! that makes no difference to him. He has no authority over me either." How thankful these proud words made me. Hastily leaving the room she said: "I'll see that you get something to eat quickly. Then while you're eating I'll get dressed and at three o'clock I'll go out with you."
Likely it was a royal child, Elsje!" Elsie laughed, reassured and happy. "They let me become a Mennonite. Not Jan Baars, but his sister who took me into her home as a child." "Ah! Mennonite!" said I. I hadn't the slightest idea what theological, ethical and ritual peculiarities were attached to this creed. I only knew that it must be one of the innumerable variations or sects of Protestantism.
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