They ate pooferchjes, sitting in a funny little covered stall; at least, the top and three sides were covered, the fourth was open to the street.  A long, narrow table, with clean white calico spread on it, ran down the centre of the place, and narrow forms stood on either side of it.  It was lighted by a Chinese lantern hung from the roof, and also, and more especially, by a flare outside of the charcoal fire, where the pooferchjes were cooked.  A powerful brown-armed peasant woman made them, beating the batter till it frothed, and dropping it by the spoonful into the little hollows in the great sheet of iron that glowed on the stove without.  The glow of the fire was on her too, on her short skirt and her fine arms, and the flaring light, that flickered in the breeze, danced on her strong, brown face, with its resolute lines, and splendid gold-ringed head-dress.  People kept passing to and fro all the time, or stopping sometimes to look in; solemnly-gay holiday people, enjoying themselves after their own fashion.  The light flickered on them, too, and on the brick pavement, and on the trees, plentiful almost as canals in the town.  Julia leaned forward and looked, and listened to the guttural Dutch voices, and the curious patois to be heard now and then, and the distant notes of music that blended with it.  And the flickering lights and shadows danced across her mind, and the simple holiday feeling of it all got to her head.

Then the pooferchjes were done and brought in, little round, crisp things, smoking hot, and very greasy; something like tiny English pancakes—­at least one might say so if one had not tasted them.  And then more people came in and sat at the opposite side of the table, a gardener of another bulb grower, and his two daughters.  He raised his hat to the Van Heigen party, and received a similar salutation in return, though he and they were careful to put their hats on again, a draught being a thing much feared.  Mijnheer shook hands with the father, and they entered into conversation about the weather; the girls looked across at Denah and Anna, and more still at Julia, whose small, slim hands they evidently admired.

But at last the pooferchjes were all eaten and paid for.  To do the latter the notary, Mijnheer and Joost all brought out large purses and counted out small coins with care, and the party came out, making way for new-comers.  They did not go straight home again, as was first intended, Julia’s interest and gaiety seemed to have infected the others—­all except Denah, and they walked for a little while among the booths of toys, and sweets, and peepshows, and entertainments.  And as they went, Denah grew more and more silent, watching Julia, who was walking with Joost; the arrangement was not of the English girl’s seeking, but Denah took no account of that.  The thing of which she did take account was that they two talked as they walked together, he as well as she, but both with the ease and quick comprehension of people who have talked together often.