Papa Dercksz had not left much behind him, but Stefanie de Laders, the
only child of the first marriage, was a rich woman; and the reason
why old Mamma had only a little left of her first husband's fortune
was because she had never practised economy. Stefanie, however, had
saved and put by, never knowing why, from an inherited proclivity for
adding money to money. She lived in a small house in the Javastraat
and was known in philanthropic circles, devoting herself prudently and
thriftily to good works. Lot and Elly found Aunt at home: she rose from
her chair, amidst a twittering of little birds in little cages, and she
herself had something of a larger-sized little old bird: short, lean,
shrivelled, tripping with little bird-like steps, restless, in spite
of her years, with her narrow little shoulders and her bony hands,
she was a very ugly little old woman, a little witch. Never having
been married, devoid of passions, devoid of the vital flame, she had
grown old unscathed in her little egoisms, with only one great fear,
which had clung to her all her life: the fear of encountering Hell's
terrors after her death, which, after all, was drawing nearer. And so
she was very religious, convinced that Calvin knew all about it, for
everybody and for all subsequent ages; and, trusting blindly in her
faith, she read anything of this tendency on which she could lay hands,
from paper-covered tracts to theological works, though she did not
understand the latter, while the former left her full of shuddering.
"Quite a surprise, children!" Aunt Stefanie de Laders screamed, as
though Lot and Elly were deaf. "And when are you getting married?"
"In three months, Aunt."
"In church?"
"I don't think so, Aunt," said Lot.
"I thought as much!"
"Then you made a good guess."
"But it's not the thing. Don't you want to get married in church
either, Elly?"
"No, Aunt, I agree with Lot.... May I say Aunt?"
"Yes, certainly, child, say Aunt. No, it's not the thing. But you get
that from the Derckszes: they never thought of what might be in store
for them hereafter...."
The birds twittered and Aunt's high-pitched voice sounded aggressive.
"If Grandpapa could be at the wedding, I should do it perhaps, for his
sake," said Elly. "But he's too old to come. Mamma Steyn doesn't make a
point of it either."
"No, of course not!" screamed Aunt Stefanie.
"You see, Aunt, you're the only one in the family who _does_," said Lot.
He did not see Aunt Stefanie often; but, when he saw her, it amused him
to draw her out.
"And there's no need to do it for _my_ sake," said Aunt,
self-righteously; and she thought to herself, "They sha'n't come in for
a cent, if they don't get married in church and do the proper thing. I
had intended to leave them something: now I shall leave everything to
Harold's grandchildren. They at least behave properly...."
But, when Elly made as though to rise, Aunt, who was flattered at
having visitors, said:
"Well, stay a bit longer, come, Elly! I don't see Lot so often; and
he's his aunt's own nephew after all.... It's not the thing, my boy....
You know, _I_ just speak out. I've done so from a child. I'm the
eldest: with a family like ours, which has not always behaved properly,
I have always had to speak out.... I've shown a great deal of tact,
however. But for me, Uncle Anton would have been quite lost, though
even now he isn't always proper. But leave him to his fate I will
_not_. Uncle Daniel and especially Uncle Harold, with their children:
how often haven't they needed me!..."
"Aunt, you have always been invaluable," said Lot. "But you were not
able to do much for Aunt Thérèse: she turned Catholic; and that wasn't
due to your influence, surely!"
"Thérèse is lost!" cried Aunt Stefanie, violently. "I've long since
given up having anything to do with Thérèse.... But any one for whom
I can do anything ... I sacrifice myself for. For Uncle Harold I do
what I can, also for his children; to Ina I am a second mother, also to
D'Herbourg: now there's a proper man for you; and Leo and Gus are good
and proper boys...."
"Not forgetting Lily," said Lot, "who didn't hesitate to call her
first-born son after you, though I think Stefanus a queer sort of name!"
"No, you'll never call your children after me," screamed Aunt, in
between the birds, "not though you get a dozen girls! What do you want
me to say, my boy? Uncle Harold's family has always shown me more
affection than your mother's family has; I got most perhaps from the
Trevelley children! And yet God alone knows what your mother owes to
me: but for me, Lot, she would have been lost! I'm not saying it to be
unpleasant, my boy; but she would have been lost, Lot, but for me! Yes,
you can feel grateful to me! You can see for yourself, your dear Mamma,
twice divorced, from her first two husbands: no, Lot, that was anything
but proper."
"My dear Aunt, Mamma has always been the black sheep of our virtuous
family."
"No, no, no!" said Aunt Stefanie, shaking her restless little bird-like
head; and the birds around her agreed with her and twittered their
assent. "The family's not so virtuous as that. Generally speaking, it
has never been proper! I won't say a word against my mother, but this
much is certain: she lost my father too early. You can't _compare_ Papa
Dercksz with _him_."
"Of course, there's no comparing a Dercksz with a De Laders," said Lot.
"You're being sarcastic!" said Aunt; and the birds twittered their
indignation in sympathy. "But there's many a true word spoken in jest.
I'm not saying it because of your mother, who's a dear child, whom
I'm fond of, but all the other Derckszes, with the exception of Uncle
Harold, are ..."
"Are what, Aunt Stefanie?"
"Are a sinful, hysterical crew!" cried Aunt Stefanie, aggressively.
"Uncle Anton, Uncle Daan, Aunt Thérèse and, my boy--though she's not
a Dercksz, it's in her blood--your sister Ottilie as well! They're a
sinful, hysterical, crew!" And she thought, "Your mother's one of them
too, my boy, though I'm not saying so."
"Then I'm once more glad," said Lot, "that _my_ Dercksz hysteria is
steadied by a certain Pauws calmness and sedateness." And he thought,
"Aunt's quite right, but it all comes from her own mother ... only it
happened to pass over Aunt Stefanie."
But Aunt went on, seconded by the birds:
"I'm not saying it to say anything unpleasant about the family, my boy.
I daresay I'm hard, but I speak out properly. Who speaks out properly
in our family?"
"You do, Aunt, you do!"
"Yes, I do, I, I, I!" cried Aunt; and all the birds in all the cages
twittered their agreement. "Don't go away just yet, stay a little
longer, Elly. I think it's so nice of you to have come. Elly, just
ring the bell, will you? Then Klaartje will bring a brandy-cherry: I
make them after the recipe of Grandmamma's Anna; and she makes them
properly."
"Aunt, we must really be getting on."
"Come, just one cherry!" Aunt insisted; and the birds joined in the
invitation. "Otherwise Aunt will think that you're angry with her for
speaking out...."
The brandy-cherries were tasted; and this put Aunt in a good humour,
even when Lot exclaimed, through the twittering of the birds:
"Aunt ... have _you_ never been hysterical?"
"I? Hysterical? No! Sinful, yes: I am sinful still, as we all are! But
hysterical, thank God, I have never been! Hysterical, like Uncle Anton,
Aunt Thérèse and ... your sister Ottilie, I have never been, never!"
The birds could not but confirm this.
"But you've been in love, Aunt! I hope you'll tell me the story of your
romance one day; then I'll make it into a very fine book."
"You've put too much about the family into your sinful books, as
it is, for Aunt ever to tell you that, though she had been in love
ten times over. For shame, boy! You ought to be ashamed of yourself!
Write a moral book that's a comfort to read, but don't go digging up
sinfulness for the sake of describing it, however fine the words you
choose may be."
"So at any rate you think my words fine?"
"I think nothing fine that you write, it's accursed books that you
write!... Are you really going now, Elly? Not because I don't admire
Lot's books, I hope? No? Then just one more cherry. You should get the
recipe from Anna, at Grandmamma's. Well, good-bye, children; and think
over what sort of present you'd like from Aunt. You can choose your
own, child, you can choose your own. Aunt'll give a present that's the
proper thing."
The birds agreed and, as Lot and Elly took their leave, twittered them
lustily out of the room.