Hans Brinker; Or, The Silver Skates
Page 9
VI
SUNBEAMS
Dame Brinker was startled at her children's emotion, glad, too, for itproved how loving and true they were.
Beautiful ladies, in princely homes, often smile suddenly and sweetly,gladdening the very air around them; but I doubt if their smile be morewelcome in God's sight than that which sprang forth to cheer the roughlyclad boy and girl in the humble cottage. Dame Brinker felt that she hadbeen selfish. Blushing and brightening, she hastily wiped her eyes, andlooked upon them as only a mother can.
"Hoity! Toity! pretty talk we're having, and Saint Nicholas' Eve almosthere! What wonder the yarn pricks my fingers! Come, Gretel, take thiscent,[11] and while Hans is trading for the skates you can buy a wafflein the market-place."
[Footnote 11: The Dutch cent is worth less than half of an Americancent.]
"Let me stay home with you, mother," said Gretel, looking up with eyesthat sparkled through their tears. "Hans will buy me the cake."
"As you will, child, and Hans--wait a moment. Three turns of the needlewill finish this toe, and then you may have as good a pair of hose asever were knitted (owning the yarn is a grain too sharp,) to sell to thehosier on the Heireen Gracht.[12] That will give us threequarter-guilders if you make good trade; and as it's right hungryweather, you may buy four waffles. We'll keep the Feast of SaintNicholas after all."
[Footnote 12: A street in Amsterdam.]
Gretel clapped her hands. "That will be fine! Annie Bouman told me whatgrand times they will have in the big houses to-night. But we will bemerry too. Hans will have beautiful new skates,--and then there'll bethe waffles! Oh-h! Don't break them, brother Hans. Wrap them well, andbutton them under your jacket very carefully."
"Certainly," replied Hans quite gruff with pleasure and importance.
"Oh! mother!" cried Gretel in high glee, "soon you will be busied withthe father, and now you are only knitting. Do tell us all about SaintNicholas!"
Dame Brinker laughed to see Hans hang up his hat and prepare to listen."Nonsense, children," she said, "I have told it to you often."
"Tell us again! oh, _do_ tell us again!" cried Gretel, throwing herselfupon the wonderful wooden bench that her brother had made on themother's last birthday. Hans, not wishing to appear childish, and yetquite willing to hear the story, stood carelessly swinging his skatesagainst the fireplace.
"Well, children, you shall hear it, but we must never waste the daylightagain in this way. Pick up your ball, Gretel, and let your sock grow asI talk. Opening your ears needn't shut your fingers. Saint Nicholas, youmust know, is a wonderful saint. He keeps his eye open for the good ofsailors, but he cares most of all for boys and girls. Well, once upon atime, when he was living on the earth, a merchant of Asia sent his threesons to a great city, called Athens, to get learning."
"Is Athens in Holland, mother?" asked Gretel.
"I don't know, child. Probably it is."
"Oh, no, mother," said Hans, respectfully. "I had that in my geographylessons long ago. Athens is in Greece."
"Well," resumed the mother, "what matter? Greece may belong to the King,for aught we know. Anyhow, this rich merchant sent his sons to Athens.While they were on their way, they stopped one night at a shabby inn,meaning to take up their journey in the morning. Well, they had veryfine clothes,--velvet and silk, it may be, such as rich folks' children,all over the world, think nothing of wearing--and their belts, likewise,were full of money. What did the wicked landlord do, but contrive a planto kill the children, and take their money and all their beautifulclothes himself. So that night, when all the world was asleep he got upand killed the three young gentlemen."
Gretel clasped her hands and shuddered, but Hans tried to look as ifkilling and murder were every-day matters to him.
"That was not the worst of it," continued Dame Brinker, knitting slowly,and trying to keep count of her stitches as she talked, "that was notnear the worst of it. The dreadful landlord went and cut up the younggentlemen's bodies into little pieces, and threw them into a great tubof brine, intending to sell them for pickled pork!"
"Oh!" cried Gretel, horror-stricken, though she had often heard thestory before. Hans still continued unmoved, and seemed to think thatpickling was the best that could be done under the circumstances.
"Yes, he pickled them, and one might think that would have been the lastof the young gentlemen. But no. That night Saint Nicholas had awonderful vision, and in it he saw the landlord cutting up themerchant's children. There was no need of his hurrying, you know, forhe was a saint; but in the morning he went to the inn and charged thelandlord with the murder. Then the wicked landlord confessed it frombeginning to end, and fell down on his knees, begging forgiveness. Hefelt so sorry for what he had done that he asked the saint to bring theyoung masters to life."
"And did the saint do it?" asked Gretel, delighted, well knowing whatthe answer would be.
"Of course he did. The pickled pieces flew together in an instant, andout jumped the young gentlemen from the brine-tub. They cast themselvesat the feet of Saint Nicholas and he gave them his blessing, and--oh!mercy on us, Hans, it will be dark before you get back if you don'tstart this minute!"
By this time Dame Brinker was almost out of breath and quite out ofcommas. She could not remember when she had seen the children idle awayan hour of daylight in this manner, and the thought of such luxury quiteappalled her. By way of compensation she now flew about the room inextreme haste. Tossing a block of peat upon the fire, blowing invisibledust from the table, and handing the finished hose to Hans, all in aninstant--
"Come, Hans," she said, as her boy lingered by the door, "what keepsthee?"
Hans kissed his mother's plump cheek, rosy and fresh yet, in spite ofall her troubles.
"My mother is the best in the world, and I would be right glad to have apair of skates, but"--and, as he buttoned his jacket, he looked, in atroubled way, toward a strange figure crouching by the hearth-stone--"Ifmy money would bring a meester[13] from Amsterdam to see the father,something might yet be done."
[Footnote 13: Doctor (dokter in Dutch) called meester by the lowerclass.]
"A meester would not come, Hans, for twice that money, and it would dono good if he did. Ah! how many guilders I once spent for that; but thedear, good father would not waken. It is God's will. Go, Hans, and buythe skates."
Hans started with a heavy heart, but since the heart was young, and in aboy's bosom, it set him whistling in less than five minutes. His motherhad said "thee" to him, and that was quite enough to make even a darkday sunny. Hollanders do not address each other, in affectionateintercourse, as the French and Germans do. But Dame Brinker hadembroidered for a Heidelberg family in her girlhood, and she had carriedits "thee" and "thou" into her rude home, to be used in moments ofextreme love and tenderness.
Therefore, "what keeps thee, Hans?" sang an echo song beneath the boy'swhistling, and made him feel that his errand was blest.