Juffrouw Pieterse asked repeatedly if he had been "respectable." Walter said he had, but without knowing exactly what she meant. That affair with the spoon--had it been respectable? He didn't care to have this question decided--at least by his mother. But it was nice of Sietske; and wouldn't he have done the same?
He learned that the day was approaching when he must return to school. More than ever he felt that this source of knowledge was insufficient for him; but opposition was not to be thought of. He was dissatisfied with himself, with everything.
"I shall never amount to anything," he sighed.
His Lady Macbeth seemed uglier to him than ever. He tore her up. And Ophelia?
Goodness! He hadn't thought of Femke the whole day. Was it because she was only a wash-girl, while the doctor's children were so aristocratic? Walter censured himself.
He took advantage of the first opportunity to pay his debt in that quarter. For he felt that it was a debt; and this consciousness gave him courage. Picture in hand, he passed the familiar fence this time and knocked boldly on the door. His heart was thumping terribly; but he must do it! In a moment he stood before Femke. The lady of his heart was quietly darning stockings. It is hard on the writer; but this little detail was a matter of indifference to Walter.
"Oh!" she cried, extending her hand. "Mother, this is the young gentleman we saw that time--the little boy who was so sick. And how are you now? You look pale."
"Take a seat, little boy," said the mother. "Yes, you do look pale. Worms, of course."
"No, no, mother. The child has had nervous fever."
"All right--fever, then; but it could be from worms. Give him a cup, Femke. It won't hurt you to drink coffee; but if it were worms----"
Mrs. Claus's worms were more in Walter's way than the stockings.
"Where does your mother have her washing done?" she asked. "Not that I want to pump you--not at all. But if she isn't satisfied with her wash-woman--it sometimes happens, you understand. Everybody must look out for himself; and I just thought I'd mention it. Whenever there are any ink-spots Femke takes them out with oxalic acid; and it never makes any holes--yes, it did happen once, and we had to pay for a pair of cuffs. You can ask Femke."