And he suggested to Ernst that they should go back.
But Ernst said:
"When will my packing-cases come?"
"To-morrow, Uncle."
"You see, if I'm to get everything in order . . ."
"I'll help you."
"Will you help me unpack?"
"I'll help you too, Uncle," said Guy.
"Yes," said Ernst, "that's right. . . . You see," he whispered to Addie . . .
"What, Uncle?"
"It's not good . . . for the vases to remain in the cases so long. . . . You don't believe it, of course, but . . ."
He did not complete his sentence, would not say that the vases were suffocating in their cases, with all that paper and straw; he would not say it, because Addie was so kind, a kind-hearted fellow, really, but devoid of understanding, stupid, just as stupid as all the rest of them. . . .
"We shall unpack as quickly as we can, Uncle, and make the room comfortable for you."
"Yes. I have only the bedroom at present."
"The bedroom's all right, isn't it?"
"Yes. Am I to have my dinner there to-night?"
"If you don't mind . . . as your sitting-room isn't ready. . . ."
"Yes. I don't care for dining in my bedroom. Can't I stay and dine here?"
"Certainly, Uncle. We should like that above all things. Aren't the troop of us too noisy for you?"
"They are a bit noisy, but . . . no, they're very good. Tell me, Addie, they're all children of Uncle Gerrit, aren't they?"
"Of Uncle Gerrit, yes."
