Little Philippe of Belgium

by Madeline Brandeis

  Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Joke Van Dorst and theOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  Transcriber's Notes:

  Words surrounded by _ are italicized.

  Words encased in = clarify the pronunciation. Due to the restriction ofthe latin-1 font, this has been rendered without most of its accent.

  A number of obvious errors have been corrected in this text.

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  Little Philippe of Belgium

  LITTLE PHILIPPE OF BELGIUM]

  LITTLE PHILIPPE _of_ BELGIUM

  BY

  MADELINE BRANDEIS

  _Author of_

  "Little Indian Weaver" "The Wee Scotch Piper" "The Little Dutch Tulip Girl" "The Little Swiss Wood-Carver"

  _Photographic Illustrations Made in Belgium by the Author_

  GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS NEW YORK _By Arrangement with the A. Flanagan Company_

  COPYRIGHT, 1930, BY A. FLANAGAN COMPANY

  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  PREFACE

  When I began to write these stories about children of all lands I hadjust returned from Europe whither I journeyed with Marie and Ref. Maybeyou don't know Marie and Ref. I'll introduce them: Please meet Marie, myvery little daughter, and Ref, my very big reflex camera.

  These two are my helpers. Marie helps by being a little girl who knowswhat other little girls like and by telling me; and Ref helps bysnapping pictures of everything interesting that Marie and I see on ourtravels. I couldn't get along without them.

  Several years have gone by since we started our work together and Marieis a bigger girl--but Ref hasn't changed one bit. Ref hasn't changed anymore than my interest in writing these books for you. And I hope that_you_ hope that I'll never change, because I want to keep on writinguntil we'll have no more countries to write about--unless, of course,some one discovers a new country.

  Even if a new country isn't discovered, we'll find foreign children totalk about--maybe the children in Mars! Who knows? Nobody. Not evenMarie--and Marie usually knows about most things. That's the reason why,you see, though I sign myself

  Madeline Brandeis]

  I am really only

  Marie's Mother.

  DEDICATION

  Because she likes "scarey" stories, because she likes this one best ofall my books, because I like her best of all--well, just because she'smy dear little daughter, I dedicate this book to

  Marie Madeleine Brandeis.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter I PAGE The Brussels Sprout 13

  Chapter II Papa Pomme's Surprise 32

  Chapter III A Neighbor 43

  Chapter IV Zelie 58

  Chapter V New Friends 69

  Chapter VI Philippe Acts as Guide 81

  Chapter VII Philippe Runs Away 95

  Chapter VIII A Difficult Journey 109

  Chapter IX The City of Sisters 120

  Chapter X In the Shadows of Bruges 131

  Chapter XI Found 139

  Chapter XII Philippe Finds Out 150

  Chapter XIII The Cave of the Crows 162

  Chapter XIV Trompke Talks 175

  Chapter XV A New Song 185

  PEOPLE WHO POSED FOR THE PICTURES

  Little Philippe Alden Allen

  Philippe, grown older Philippe de Lacy

  Papa Pomme Lionel Belmore

  Tom Craufurd Kent

  Zelie Seesil Anne Johnson

  Baby Rose Suzanne Ransom

  AND SOMETHING ABOUT THEM

  Little Alden Allen looks so much like Philippe that he might havestepped right out of this book. He is also a sweet lovable little boy.

  Lionel Belmore--well, just look at his jolly round face! Isn't he PapaPomme to perfection? Mr. Belmore is a famous English actor, and he posedfor Papa Pomme because he loves to do all he can to please boys andgirls.

  Craufurd Kent is another famous English actor. And although it is hardto believe, from looking at these savage photographs, he also loves boysand girls and he hopes you won't think him like Tom in real life. I canassure you he isn't a bit, except that he whistles a lot and does itbeautifully.

  Seesil Anne Johnson is a talented little girl, who has worked in manymotion pictures. She seems to have Zelie's sad eyes, though of course,she has no reason to be sad, and she isn't. On the contrary, she is veryhappy, for she has six brothers and sisters to play with.

  Suzanne Ransom is another little motion picture girl, and she is justlike Philippe's Baby Rose. Don't you think so?

  Now we come to the hero of the story, Philippe de Lacy. Philippe's lifeitself is a story; only I could not tell it all to you, for it wouldtake most of the pages in this book to do so. You may already know thatPhilippe is one of the best beloved boy-actors in the world. Perhaps youdo not know that during the war, Philippe was found in a desertedvillage in France and adopted by a kind English nurse. She brought himto America, and today there is no happier pair in Hollywood than thesetwo. You see what a fine boy Philippe has turned out to be. And I neednot add that Miss de Lacy is a proud mother.

  In the book little Philippe's adventure started because of that warpicture which he saw with his father. In real life, little Philippe'sadventure also started because of the war. But in the book Philippe'sexperience was not pleasant and he was glad when it was over, while thereal Philippe's adventure was pleasant, and we are all glad for him thatit is going on and on.

  MADELINE BRANDEIS

  VIEW OF A CANAL FROM THE ROSARY DOCK, BRUGES]

  Little Philippe of Belgium

  Chapter I

  THE BRUSSELS SPROUT

  The Brussels Sprout sat among the cabbages, thinking.

  The Brussels Sprout was not a little vegetable. He was a little boy. Hisname was really Philippe. But he was called "Petit Choux de Bruxelles"(=pe-te' shoo de bruek-sel=), which means in French, "LittleBrussels Sprout." French is spoken in Brussels, and this little boywas born in that city.

  But he now lived on a farm a few miles outside of Brussels.

  The name "choux" (=shoo=) or "cabbage," is often used as a pet name.That was the reason why Philippe's parents called him Little Cabbage orSprout.

  Sprout was a very good name for this little boy, because new ideas werealways sprouting in his head.

  He was always dreaming dreams and wishing wishes. He was neversatisfied.

  One of his dearest wishes was for a little sister.

  Today he sat among the cabbages and thought deeply. He was wonderingwhy one of the cabbages did not open and give him a baby sister.

  SPROUT SAT AMONG THE CABBAGES]

  This may sound queer to you. But Philippe was only five years old, andhe believed very earnestly that babies pop out of cabbages.

  It is a Belgian folk tale. Philippe had
planted these cabbages in hisgarden for this very purpose.

  But no baby sister had popped out of a cabbage yet.

  Philippe wanted a baby sister with whom to play. He was the kind oflittle boy who always longed for something.

  He was not really discontented. But he liked new things to happen. Andbesides he was a bit lonely on that farm, with nobody to play with him.

  "Why do you look so sad today, my little cabbage?" asked his mother.

  HE WAS NEVER SATISFIED]

  She had just come out of the house and stood looking down at him.

  "I am thinking that never will the baby, Cauliflower, come!" heanswered.

  Cauliflower was what Philippe had determined to name the sister for whomhe longed. Cauliflower in French is "choux fleur" (=shoo-flur=), whichmeans "cabbage flower."

  "Are you quite certain that none of the cabbages moved today?" askedMother Yvelle (=e-vel'=), smiling strangely.

  Philippe shook his head and replied, "They are all quite still, Mamma.The little sister is not coming."

  Then Mother Yvelle laughed and threw both arms about her little boy.

  "Do not say that," she cried.

  Philippe looked at her and saw a shiny light in her eyes. Mother Yvellesaid softly, "Soon--soon--the great day is coming when my Philippe shallbe a little brother!"

  A little brother! Philippe could hardly believe the words that MotherYvelle had spoken. But it was true. Mother Yvelle spoke only the truth.

  When Mother Yvelle went into the house, Philippe looked at each cabbagecarefully.

  MOTHER YVELLE]

  "Which one will it be?" he wondered excitedly. "Which cabbage willopen and give me my little Cauliflower?"

  "WHICH ONE WILL IT BE?"]

  Philippe was happy beyond all dreams. He examined each vegetable. But hecould find no sign of the coming baby in any of them.

  HE EXAMINED EACH VEGETABLE]

  He went to the barn. There he spoke to the big dogs, his onlycompanions. He told them the great news.

  These dogs did not have much time to play with a little boy. They wereusually working. For Belgian dogs draw carts for their owners.

  BELGIAN DOGS DRAW CARTS FOR THEIR OWNERS]

  Philippe's mother had a big vegetable cart. Nearly every morning sheloaded it with peas and beans and carrots and onions. She then hitchedthe dogs and drove them to the market place in Brussels. Here she wouldsit at a stand and sell her fresh vegetables.

  Philippe usually went with her. But sometimes he stayed at home with thegardener.

  Philippe's father was a chef. Papa Paul was a very fine chef and couldcook some of the best French and Belgian dishes.

  He cooked in a fine restaurant in Brussels. He came home late at night,and so Philippe saw little of his father.

  But he admired his father very much. He wanted to cook the way hisfather did some day. That was another great desire in the heart of thislittle boy. Philippe dreamed of some day becoming a chef like hisfather.

  But he did not look like Papa Paul. Philippe's father was stout andround and smiling. And Philippe was rather slender, and had a seriouslittle face with big dreamy eyes. He was like his mother.

  STOUT AND ROUND AND SMILING]

  Mother Yvelle was thin and pale and sad-looking.

  You see, she and her husband had lived through the terrible World War.

  There are, however, people whose dispositions are so jolly that theyforget sadness. Philippe's father was one of these people. Though PapaPaul wore a wooden leg, it did not seem to affect his sunny smile. Whenhe was in the war he had been shot in the leg, and now he wore a leg ofwood. He had been a chef only since the war.

  Before the war Philippe's parents had farmed and raised vegetablestogether. They had been happy farmers. But their farm had been blown tobits by the enemy.

  Many stormy years passed, and many terrible things happened to thesepoor people. But finally the sunny smile won out. Here was Papa Paulcooking in one of the best restaurants in Belgium, while Mother Yvellewas the farmer.

  Mother Yvelle looked forward to the day when Philippe should be oldenough to help her drive the dogs to town with the vegetables.

  Philippe, too, wanted that day to come. He wanted to drive the fine dogsto town.

  From the barn he made his way to a tiny shack, which was his own littlekitchen. Here he spent many hours over a small stove his father had madefor him. He prepared dishes that he thought were very fine.

  Today he had gathered some vegetables and carried them with the otherthings he had in his arms.

  "What are you going to cook today?" asked the gardener, Emile(=a-mel'=).

  He stood in the door holding a big rake and looking amused.

  "A stew--a very fine stew," answered Philippe, and he began to pour anumber of things into a pot.

  "What are you putting into the stew?" asked Emile.

  "Onions and peas, some rice, a nice little fat snail and a root," theboy replied, as he began to stir.

  "A root? What kind of a root?" inquired the gardener.

  "Oh, a root that I found. A very big one. I dug it up."

  Emile laughed and moved on. One could never tell what went intoPhilippe's stews. Sometimes Emile was made to taste them. Then he had totell Philippe that the stews were good. But Emile always had to drinksome water afterwards to wash away the taste.

  But then Philippe was such a little boy. Besides, the gardener feltsorry for him, because he was lonesome.

  Philippe called the gardener Emile Epinard (=a-mel'a-pe-naer'=), which means "Emile Spinach." And, indeed, Emile didlook like a ragged leaf of spinach!

  Philippe had a vegetable game. He always tried to think what vegetableeach person looked like.

  Then he would call that person by the name of that vegetable. It wasfun.

  For instance, he always called his father "Papa Pomme" (=pom=), whichmeans "Father Apple." This name rather shocked Mother Yvelle. But itpleased the jolly round chef. He would tell his friends about it andlaugh until his fat sides shook.

  PAPA POMME WAS A VERY FINE CHEF]

  Philippe had a friend whom he called "String Bean Simon," another,"Celery Susan," and many others he gave different nicknames of the samekind.

  As he was stirring his mixture, he suddenly remembered that he had nottold Emile the great news.

  "Oh, Emile Spinach, Emile Spinach," he called, "did you know that soon,soon the little sister will be here?"

  But Emile Spinach had gone into the fields.

  "This stew will be for the baby, Cauliflower," thought Philippe. "Shewill like this stew."

  Soon he heard his mother's voice calling from the house, "Supper, mylittle one. Come to supper."

  Carrying his precious pot, he started toward the cottage. On the way heonce more examined the cabbages.

  But there was still no sign of a baby in any of them.

  As he neared the house, he noticed a beautiful rose growing near thewall.

  It had been in full bloom the day before. Now it was beginning to droop.Philippe looked at it pityingly.

  "Poor rose!" he said. "Tomorrow you will be dead."

  Then he went into the house.

  The next morning Philippe arose early. He ran to the cabbage patch. Butthe cabbages all looked neat and whole. None had been disturbed duringthe night.

  "She has not come!" moaned poor Philippe.

  Sadly he started toward the cottage, when again he noticed the rose. Butthis time it was only the stem he saw. The petals all had fallen to theground.

  "Poor rose!" he sighed. "She is dead!"

  "POOR ROSE," HE SAID]

  There was a step behind him. A heavy hand was laid on his shoulder.

  His father's deep, fine voice boomed, "What are you saying, my littlecabbage?"

  "Poor rose is dead!" answered Philippe sadly.

  "What!" exclaimed Papa Pomme. "Why, Baby Rose is born!"

  "Baby Rose?" questioned Philippe.

  "Yes, my son," Papa Po
mme said. "Your little sister came to us lastnight--your little sister Rose."

  Philippe leaped up and threw his arms about his father's neck in a burstof joy. At last his little sister was here! Then he looked at the deadrose, and from it, to the live and healthy cabbages. He smiledknowingly.

  "Papa Pomme," he said, "it was not from the cabbage that Baby came. So,you see, she shall not be our Cauliflower. It was the rose that openedto give her to us. That is why she is our Baby Rose."

  Chapter II

  PAPA POMME'S SURPRISE

  For over a year now Philippe, the little Brussels Sprout, had been goingto the market place with Emile Spinach. Mother had to stay at home withBaby Rose.

  Philippe felt himself almost a man now. If only Emile would stay at homeand let him drive the dogs alone! Ah, that would be heaven, indeed.Another dream was to bring his precious Baby Rose to the market placesome day. Philippe was always wishing wishes.

  Rose was so tiny. At first she could only laugh at Philippe's happy faceas he bent over her cradle. She pulled his hair or clutched his finger.

  Now she could stand alone and say a word or two. She was beautiful. Shewas fair and dainty, and her eyes were as blue as a summer sky. HowPhilippe loved his Baby Rose!

  Soon Mother had promised to bring her to the market place. What a proudboy Philippe would be when he might set her upon the low cart on top ofthe vegetables and drive her to town! The fine, sleek dogs would beproud, too, knowing that a rare flower rested upon their vegetable load.