The shout of the delighted boys had reached the muffled ears of the fine young gentleman who, under a full pressure of pent-up wrath, was skating toward Amsterdam. A Yankee boy would have wheeled about at once and hastened to satisfy his curiosity[138]
. But Carl only halted, and, with his back toward his party, wondered what on earth had happened. There he stood, immovable, until, feeling sure that nothing but the prospect of something to eat could have made them hurrah so heartily, he turned and skated slowly toward his excited comrades.In the meantime Peter had drawn Hans aside from the rest.
“How did you know it was my purse?” he asked.
“You paid me three guilders yesterday, mynheer, for making the whitewood chain, telling me that I must buy skates.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“I saw your purse then. It was of yellow leather.”
“And where did you find it today?”
“I left my home this morning, mynheer, in great trouble, and as I skated, I took no heed[139]
until I stumbled against some lumber, and while I was rubbing my knee I saw your purse nearly hidden under a log.”“That place! Ah, I remember now. Just as we were passing it I pulled my tippet from my pocket and probably flipped out the purse at the same time. It would have been gone but for you, Hans. Here” – pouring out the contents – “you must give us the pleasure of dividing the money with you.”
“No, mynheer,” answered Hans. He spoke quietly, without pretence or any grace of manner, but Peter, somehow, felt rebuked, and put the silver back without a word.
I like that boy, rich or poor, he thought to himself, then added aloud, “May I ask about this trouble of yours, Hans?”
“Ah, mynheer, it is a sad case, but I have waited here too long. I am going to Leyden to see the great Dr. Boekman.”
“Dr. Boekman!” exclaimed Peter in astonishment.
“Yes, mynheer, and I have not a moment to lose[140]
. Good day!”“Stay, I am going that way. Come, my lads! Shall we return to Haarlem!”
“Yes,” cried the boys, eagerly – and off they started.
“Now,” said Peter, drawing near Hans, both skimming the ice so easily and lightly as they skated on together that they seemed scarcely conscious of moving. “We are going to stop at Leyden, and if you are going there only with a message to Dr. Boekman, cannot I do the errand for you? The boys may be too tired to skate so far today, but I will promise to see him early tomorrow if he is to be found in the city.”
“Ah, mynheer, that would be serving me indeed; it is not the distance I dread but leaving my mother so long.”
“Is she ill?”
“No, mynheer. It is the father. You may have heard it, how he has been without wit for many a year – ever since the great Schlossen Mill was built; but his body has been well and strong. Last night the mother knelt upon the hearth to blow the peat (it is his only delight to sit and watch the live embers, and she will blow them into a blaze every hour of the day to please him). Before she could stir, he sprang upon her like a giant and held her close to the fire, all the time laughing and shaking his head. I was on the canal, but I heard the mother scream and ran to her. The father had never loosened his hold[141]
, and her gown was smoking. I tried to deaden the fire, but with one hand he pushed me off. There was no water in the cottage or I could have done better, and all that time he laughed – such a terrible laugh, mynheer, hardly a sound, but all in his face. I tried to pull her away, but that only made it worse. Then – it was dreadful, but could I see the mother burn? I beat him – beat him with a stool. He tossed me away. The gown was on fire! I WOULD put it out. I can’t remember well after that. I found myself upon the floor, and the mother was praying. It seemed to me that she was in a blaze, and all the while I could hear that laugh. Gretel flew to the closet and filled a porringer with the food he liked and put it upon the floor. Then, mynheer, he left the mother and crawled to it like a little child. She was not burned, only a part of her clothing. Ah, how kind she was to him all night, watching and tending him. He slept in a high fever, with his hands pressed to his head. The mother says he has done that so much of late, as though he felt pain there. Ah, mynheer, I did not mean to tell you. If the father was himself, he would not harm even a kitten[142].”For a moment the two boys moved on in silence.
“It is terrible,” said Peter at last. “How is he today?”
“Very sick, mynheer.”
“Why go for Dr. Boekman, Hans? There are others in Amsterdam who could help him, perhaps. Boekman is a famous man, sought only by the wealthiest, and they often wait upon him in vain[143]
.”“He PROMISED, mynheer, he promised me yesterday to come to the father in a week. But now that the change has come, we cannot wait. We think the poor father is dying. Oh, mynheer, you can plead with him to come quick. He will not wait a whole week and our father dying, the good meester is so kind.”