"Marie's daugh-ter!"

"Whose daughter?"

"Marie's?"

"Bertha?"

"No, not Bertha, Gertrude: Ger-tru-ude!" yelled Auntie Tine.

"Oh, Gertrude?" said Auntie Rine, nodding her head.

"Oh dear!" said Mrs. van Lowe, upset by the thought of the little
daughter who had died at Buitenzorg.

"Never mind, Mamma," said Constance. "They'll never remember who I am."

"They're so obstinate!"

"But they're so old."

"It makes me so sad to hear them always taking you for Gertrude. Poor
Gertrude!"

"Come, Mamma, you mustn't mind."

"No, child. But, oh, why did you go to Bertha's on Tuesday?"

"What harm did I do, Mamma?"

"No harm, child. But oh dear!... Good-evening, Herman; good-evening,
Lotje."

It was Uncle and Aunt Ruyvenaer, with their girls following behind. And
Constance saw a look of pity in their eyes.

"I say, Constance...." whispered Aunt Lot.

"Yes, Auntie?"

"Does Mamma know about that hor-r-rid article?"

Constance turned pale:

"I don't think so, Auntie."

"But your sister Dorine must know...."

Aunt Ruyvenaer beckoned to Dorine, who was very fidgety:

"I say, Dorine, does Mamma know about that hor-r-rid article?"

"No, Auntie," said Dorine, forgetting to say good-evening to Constance.
"I kept coming in and looking at the letter-box...."

"To-day?" asked Constance.

"Yes."

"What do you mean, to-day? A week ago, you mean."

"No, Mamma didn't see that article last week, but I was afraid about
to-day."

"To-day?"

"Yes, to-day's article."

Constance caught Dorine by the arm:

"Is there something in it, to-day?"

"Yes," Dorine whispered, coldly. "Didn't you know?"

"Don't you know, Constance?" asked Auntie Lot.

"No, I haven't had it...."

"So you haven't read it, Constance?"

"No."

"Well, it's just as well, child," said Auntie, as though relieved.
"Better not read it, eh? Hor-r-rid article. Scandalous, child, about
you.... Eh, _soedah_[23] all those people.... And it's so long ago, you
and your husband; and he is your husband now!... Eh, what I say is,
leave her alone. Forgive and forget, _soedah!_ But I tell you, people
always love to _korek_ about _tempo doeloe_.[24] It makes me sick when I
think what people are!"

"Dorine, have you that article?"

"Do you think I carry it about with me?" said Dorine, irritably.

"Why are you angry with me, Dorine?"

"I'm not angry; but, when you give occasion...."

"I?... Give occasion?... Fifteen years ago?..."

"No, on Tue