which Mamma had given her that day, sending her to all the brothers and sisters, for Constance’ sake. . . . And you’d see, Constance wouldn’t even be grateful to her, Constance would think it only natural. . . . Every one always thought it only natural, that Dorine should run about for the family; and no one was ever really grateful. . . . Every one was selfish, Mamma included. . . . Well, she would try it herself one day, being selfish . . . and sit all day long by her fire, as Karel always did . . . and live only for herself, for her own pleasure . . . and leave them all to their fate. . . . Just imagine, supposing, to-morrow, she were to say to Bertha and Adolphine, whose girls were soon to be married, that she had no time to go on everybody’s errands. . . . It was always Dorine: Dorine could do it all; Dorine didn’t mind the rain; Dorine had to be in the Veenestraat anyhow. . . . Running about, running about, running about, without stopping, all out of sheer, silly good-nature; and who thanked her for it? Nobody! Not Mamma, nor Bertha, nor Adolphine. . . . It was all taken as a matter of course! Well, she would like to see their faces to-morrow, if she said, “I’ve no time, you know;” or “I’m staying at home to-day;” or, “I’m feeling rather tired.” Dorine feeling tired! What next!
Still grumbling, she rang the bell at Mamma’s, in the Alexanderstraat; she took off her things in the hall. And now she emerged from her long cloak, a lean and wiry little woman of thirty-five,
