Lysbet was already in her place; so was Joanna, and also Bram; and a slim black girl called Dinorah was handing around fricasseed chicken and venison steaks, hot fritters and johnny-cake; while the rich Java berry filled the room with an aroma of tropical life, and suggestions of the spice-breathing coasts of Sunda.  Joris and Bram discussed the business of the day; Katherine was full of her visit to Semple House the preceding evening.  Dinorah was no restraint.  The slaves Joris owned, like those of Abraham, were born or brought up in his own household; they held to all the family feelings with a faithful, often an unreasonable, tenacity.

And yet, this morning, Joris waited until Lysbet dismissed her handmaid, before he said the words he had determined to speak ere he began the work of the day.  Then he put down his cup with an emphasis which made all eyes turn to him, and said,—­

“Katrijntje, my daughter, call not to-day, nor call not any day, until I tell you different, at Madam Semple’s.  The people who go and come there, I like them not.  They will be no good to you.  Lysbet, what say you in this matter?”

“What you say, I say, Joris.  The father is to be obeyed.  When he will not, the children can not.”

“Joanna, what say you?”

“I like best of all things to do your pleasure, father.”

“And you, Bram?”

“As for me, I think you are very right.  I like not those English officers,—­insolent and proud men, all of them.  It would have been a great pleasure to me to strike down the one who yesterday spurned with his spurred boot our good neighbour Jacob Cohen, for no reason but that he was a Jew”—­

“Heigho! go softly, Bram.  That which burns thee not, cool not.”

“As he passed our store door where I stood, he said ‘devil,’ but he meant me.”

“Only God knows what men mean.  Now, then, little one, thy will is my will, is it not?”

She had drawn her chair close to her father’s, and taken his big hand between her own, and was stroking and petting it as he spoke; and, ere she answered, she leaned her head upon his breast.

“Father, I like to see the English lady; and she is teaching me the new stitch.”

“Schoone Lammetje!  There are many other things far better for thee to learn; for instance, to darn the fine Flemish lace, and to work the beautiful ‘clocks’ on thy stockings, and to make perfect thy Heidelberg and thy Confession of Faith.  In these things, the best of all good teachers is thy mother.”

“I can do these things also, father.  The lady loves me, and will be unhappy not to see me.”

“Then, let her come here and see thee.  That will be the proper thing.  Why not?  She is not better than thou art.  Once thy mother has called on her; thou and Joanna, a few times too often.  Now, then, let her call on thee.  Always honour thyself, as well as others.  That is the Dutch way; that is the right way.  Mind what I tell thee.”