Hans Brinker, or the Silver Skates / Серебряные коньки. Книга для чтения на английском языке

I do not mean that he was pirouetting or cutting a pigeon-wing[438], either of which would have been entirely too undignified for the father of a family. I simply affirm that while they were chatting pleasantly together Raff suddenly sprang from his seat, snapped his fingers, and performed two or three flourishes very much like the climax of a highland fling[439]. Next he caught his vrouw in his arms and fairly lifted her from the ground in his delight.

“Huzza!” he cried. “I have it! I have it! It’s Thomas Higgs. That’s the name! It came upon me like a flash. Write it down, lad, write it down!”

Someone knocked at the door.

“It’s the meester,” cried the delighted dame. “Goede Gunst! How things come to pass![440]”

Mother and children came in merry collision as they rushed to open the door.

It was not the doctor, after all, but three boys, Peter van Holp, Lambert, and Ben.

“Good evening, young gentlemen,” said Dame Brinker, so happy and proud that she would scarcely have been surprised at a visit from the king himself.

“Good evening, jufvrouw,” said the trio, making magnificent bows.

Dear me, thought Dame Brinker as she bobbed up and down like a churn dasher, it’s lucky I learned to curtsy at Heidelberg!

Raff was content to return the boys’ salutations with a respectful nod.

“Pray be seated, young masters,” said the dame as Gretel bashfully thrust a stool at them. “There’s a lack of chairs as you see, but this one by the fire is at your service, and if you don’t mind the hardness, that oak chest is as good a seat as the best. That’s right, Hans, pull it out.”

By the time the boys were seated to the dame’s satisfaction, Peter, acting as a spokesman, had explained that they were going to attend a lecture at Amsterdam, and had stopped on the way to return Hans’s strap.

“Oh, mynheer,” cried Hans, earnestly, “it is too much trouble. I am very sorry.”

“No trouble at all, Hans. I could have waited for you to come to your work tomorrow, had I not wished to call.

And, Hans, talking of your work, my father is much pleased with it. A carver by trade[441] could not have done it better. He would like to have the south arbor ornamented, also, but I told him you were going to school again.”

“Aye!” put in Raff Brinker, emphatically. “Hans must go to school at once – and Gretel as well – that is true.”

“I am glad to hear you say so,” responded Peter, turning toward the father, “and very glad to know that you are again a well man.”

“Yes, young master, a well man, and able to work as steady as ever, thank God!”

Here Hans hastily wrote something on the edge of a time-worn almanac that hung by the chimney-place. “Aye, that’s right, lad, set it down. Figgs! Wiggs! Alack! Alack!” added Raff in great dismay, “it’s gone again!”

“All right, Father,” said Hans, “the name’s down now in black and white. Here, look at it, father; mayhap the rest will come to you. If we had the place as well, it would be complete!” Then turning to Peter, he said in a low tone, “I have an important errand in town, mynheer, and if – ”

“Wist![442]” exclaimed the dame, lifting her hands. “Not to Amsterdam tonight, and you’ve owned your legs were aching under you. Nay, nay – it’ll be soon enough to go at early daylight.”

“Daylight, indeed!” echoed Raff. “That would never do. Nay, Meitje, he must go this hour.”

The vrouw looked for an instant as if Raff ’s recovery was becoming rather a doubtful benefit[443]; her word was no longer sole law in the house. Fortunately the proverb “Humble wife is husband’s boss” had taken deep root in her mind; even as the dame pondered, it bloomed.

“Very well, Raff,” she said smilingly, “it is thy boy as well as mine. Ah! I’ve a troublesome house, young masters.”

Just then Peter drew a long strap from his pocket.

Handing it to Hans he said in an undertone, “I need not thank you for lending me this, Hans Brinker. Such boys as you do not ask for thanks, but I must say you did me a great kindness, and I am proud to acknowledge it. I did not know,” he added laughingly, “until fairly in the race, how anxious I was to win.”

Hans was glad to join in Peter’s laugh; it covered his embarrassment and gave his face a chance to cool off a little. Honest, generous boys like Hans have such a stupid way of blushing when you least expect it.

“It was nothing, mynheer,” said the dame, hastening to her son’s relief. “The lad’s whole soul was in having you win the race, I know it was!”

This helped matters beautifully.

“Ah, mynheer,” Hans hurried to say, “from the first start I felt stiff and strange on my feet. I was well out of it so long as I had no chance of winning.”

Peter looked rather distressed.

“We may hold different opinions here.[444] That part of the business troubles me. It is too late to mend it now, but it would be really a kindness to me if – ”