ently
respectable.

"Go ahead, Klaas!"

"If I had known that this was going to happen, I would have left my
daughters at home."

"But, Juffrouw, it's in the Bible. You're not opposed to the Bible,
are you?"

"No, but I refuse to hear anything that isn't respectable. My
husband----"

"Your husband sold shoes. I know it, Juffrouw, but you're not going
to turn against----"

"I'm not going to do anything against the Bible, but I will not endure
such coarseness. Come, Gertrude, come, children!"

Juffrouw Pieterse was climbing the ladder of respectability. Moving
out of a side street into one of the principal avenues, giving the
children French names, calling in a doctor whose coachman wears
furs--that is what lifts us up.

CHAPTER XVIII

Walter's illness now took a favorable turn. As soon as he was
strong enough to leave his bed, the whole family noticed that he
had grown. All remarked about it and called each other's attention to
it. No one was better convinced of the fact than Juffrouw Pieterse; for
"that boy" had "outgrown all of his clothes," and it would not be easy
"to fit him out respectably again." So much interesting notoriety and
respectability had been reaped from Walter's illness that it was only
natural that his convalescence should be turned to the best account.

The child would sit and fill in the colors in pictures. The doctor
had presented him the pictures and a box of colors. The latter,
so Stoffel said, were the genuine English article.

Oh, such pictures!

Walter was interested especially by pictures from the opera and the
tragedy. There were pictures from Macbeth, Othello, Lear, Hamlet,
from "The Magic Flute," "The Barber of Seville," "Der Freischuetz,"
and from still a few more--each one always more romantic than the
last. In selecting suitable colors for his heroes and heroines, Walter
had the advice of the entire family, including Leentje. Usually there
was disagreement, but that only made the matter more important. In
only two details were they agreed: faces and hands were to have
flesh-color, and lips were to be painted red. It had always been
that way; otherwise, why was it called flesh-color? On account of
this arrangement Hamlet came off rather badly, receiving a much more
animated countenance than was suited to his melancholy.

"I wish I knew what the dolls mean," said Walter. He was talking
about his pictures.

"It's only necessary to ask Stoffel," his mother replie