On the contrary, today I can safely quote the saying “Misfortunes never come singly.”
First, Mr. Kleiman, our merry sunshine, had another bout of gastrointestinal hemorrhaging yesterday
and will have to stay in bed for at least three weeks.
I should tell you that his stomach has been bothering him quite a bit, and there's no cure.
Second, Bep has the flu. Third, Mr. Voskuijl has to go to the hospital next week.
He probably has an ulcer and will have to undergo surgery.
Fourth, the managers of Pomosin Industries came from Frankfurt to discuss the new Opekta deliveries.
Father had gone over the important points with Mr. Kleiman, and there wasn't enough time to give Mr. Kugler a thorough briefing.
The gentlemen arrived from Frankfurt, and Father was already shaking at the thought of how the talks would go.
“If only I could be there, if only I were downstairs,” he exclaimed.
“Go lie down with your ear to the floor. They'll be brought to the private office, and you'll be able to hear everything.”
Father's face cleared, and yesterday morning at ten-thirty Margot and Pim (two ears are better than one) took up their posts on the floor.
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