was so young that she did not before know that children and child-like
folk sometimes divine by instinct the same conclusions that very
clever people arrive at by much reasoning and observation. She felt
decidedly uncomfortable at this explanation of Joost's frequent
contemplations of herself.

"You seem to think me very clever," she said.

"Of course," he answered simply, "you are clever."

"No, I am not," she returned; "ask your mother; ask Denah Snieder;
they do not think me clever. What can I do, except cook? Oh, yes, and
speak a few foreign language as you can yourself? I cannot paint, or
draw, or sing; I do not understand music; why, when you play Bach, I
wish to go out of the room."

"That is true," he admitted; "I have felt it."

Julia bit her lip; she had never before expressed her opinion of Bach,
and she did not feel in the least gratified that he had found it out
for himself.

"It is absurd to call me clever," she said. "I have little learning
and no accomplishments. I cannot even get on with the crochet work
Denah showed me, and I do not know how to make flowers of paper."

"But why should one make flowers of paper?" he asked, in his serious
way. "They are not at all beautiful."

"Denah makes them beautifully," she answered.