Julia came from a little room which led off the sitting-room, carrying the things required on a papier-mache tray.  She wore a large, blue-print apron, for she had been shelling shrimps when she was called, and though she stayed to wash her hands, she did not think it necessary to remove her apron.  She had observed it to be the custom hereabouts to wear an apron of some sort all day long, and she did not differentiate between the grades of aprons as Denah and Anna did.  She set down the tray and shook hands ceremoniously with the sisters and made all the proper inquiries in the properest way; she had also observed that to be the custom of the place.  Then she poured out the lemonade and handed it round, and was afterwards sent to fetch a glass for herself and a little round tray to set it on—­every one had a little tray for fear of spoiling the crimson plush table-cover.  Julia cannot be said to have been anxious for lemonade; Vrouw Van Heigen’s growing affection for her often found expression in drinks at odd times, a good deal more often than she appreciated.  On this occasion, since she was doing the pouring out herself, she was able to get off with half a glass.

They all sat round the table and talked; Julia talked a great deal the least, but that did not matter, the others had so much to say.  She listened, admiring the way in which one little incident—­a dog running on the tram line and being called off just in time by its owner—­served them for a quarter of an hour.  What economy of ideas it was, and how little strain to make conversation!  Then came Mevrouw’s throat, the little hoarseness Denah had noticed on Tuesday.  It was nothing, the good lady declared, she had not felt it.  Oh, if they insisted on noticing it, she would own to a weakness but no more than was usual to her when the dust was about, and truly the dust was terrible now, she could not remember when it had been so bad so early in June.  And so on, and so on, until they somehow came round to crochet lace, when Julia was obliged to confess that she had not made much progress with the pattern.  She exhibited a very small piece with several mistakes in it.

“Why,” cried Denah, “I have done already almost half a metre of the piece I began at the same time.  Is it difficult for you?”

Julia said it was, and Vrouw Van Heigen added by way of apology for her, that she had been busy making a cool morning dress.

“For yourself?” Anna asked.  “Do you make your dresses?”

“This is for Mevrouw,” Julia answered; “but I can make my own.”

The Polkingtons had had to, and also to put an immense amount of thought and work into it, because they were bound to get a fine effect for a small expense, and that is not possible without a large outlay of time and consideration.  Julia did not explain this to the present company, it would have been rather incomprehensible to them.