As she went along the passage the professor's bell sounded, and Koosje,
being close to the door, went abruptly in. The professor looked up in
mild astonishment, quickly enough changed to dismay as he caught sight
of his valued Koosje's face, from out of which anger seemed in a moment
to have thrust all the bright, comely beauty.

"How now, my good Koosje?" said the old gentleman. "Is aught amiss?"

"Yes, professor, there is," returned Koosje, all in a blaze of anger,
and moving, as she spoke, the tea-tray, which she set down upon the
oaken buffet with a bang, which made its fair and delicate freight
fairly jingle again.

"But you needn't break my china, Koosje," suggested the old gentleman,
mildly, rising from his chair and getting into his favourite attitude
before the stove.

"You are quite right, professor," returned Koosje, curtly; she was
sensible even in her trouble.

"And what is the trouble?" he asked, gently.

"It's just this, professor," cried Koosje, setting her arms akimbo and
speaking in a high-pitched, shrill voice; "you and I have been warming
a viper in our bosoms, and, viper-like, she has turned round and bitten
me."

"Is it Truide?"