Walter Pieterse Part 14

Walter rubbed his eyes. There was the bridge and the ditch. He heard the ducks cackling from the distance. He saw his mills again. Yes, yes, there they were. But their name was no longer--what was their name?

The mills were called "Morning Hour" and "Eagle," and they called out just like other sawmills: "Karre, karre, kra, kra----"

Thereupon Walter went home. We have already seen what awaited him there.

CHAPTER XIII

The preacher had come and gone. Sentence had been pa.s.sed and the penalty paid. But Walter was depressed and despondent. Leentje did her best to put some animation into him, but in vain. Perhaps it was because she no longer understood her ward.

Those confidential communications of Walter's were beyond her comprehension; and often she looked at him as if she doubted his sanity. From her meagre weekly allowance she saved a few doits, thinking to gladden Walter's heart with some ginger cakes, which he had always enjoyed. It was no use: Walter's soul had outgrown ginger cakes. This discovery caused Leentje bitter pain.

"But, my dear child, be reasonable, and don't worry over such foolishness. This Fancy, or whatever the creature's name is, has mocked you; or you have dreamed it all."

"No, no, no, Leentje. It's all true. I know everything she said, and it's all true."

"But, Walter, that story about your sister--you would have known that long ago."

"I did know it, but I had forgotten it. I knew everything that Fancy told me. It had only slipped out of my mind. When she spoke, then it all came back to me distinctly."

"I will go to those mills some day," said Leentje.

And she did it. After Walter's description she was able to find the place where that important meeting had taken place. She saw the timbers, the dirt, the ducks, the meadow--everything was there, even the ashes,--everything except Fancy and her stories.

Nor could Walter find Fancy now. In vain did he go out walking with those respectable Halleman boys as often as he was in the way at home. For hours he would stand on the bridge and listen to the rattling of the sawmills; but they told him nothing, and Fancy would not return.

"She has too much to do at my mother's court," Walter sighed, and went home sad and disappointed.

When he looked out the window and saw the beautiful stars twinkling encouragement to him, he cheered up a little. His sadness was less bitter, but it was still there. Pain pa.s.sed into home-sickness, a sweet longing for home, and with tears in his eyes, but no longer despairing, he whispered "Omicron, Omicron!"

Who heard that call, or understood his grief over his exile? Who observed how that sigh for the "higher" and that fiery desire had pa.s.sed into a n.o.bler state?

After long deliberations and Walter's express promise to do better, Master Pennewip had at last been prevailed upon to allow our young robber to return to school. He now had the opportunity to perfect himself in verse-writing, penmanship, verbs, "Holland Counts" and other equally important things.

The teacher said that the boy at Muiderberg had been still worse, and he had known what to prescribe. Walter would do all right now, he thought; but Juffrouw Pieterse must get another pastor, for the present one belonged to the cla.s.s of "drinkers." This she did. Walter was to receive religious instruction from a real preacher.

I don't remember the t.i.tle of the book, but the first lines were:

"Q. From whom did you and everything in existence have its origin?"

Walter wanted to say, From my mother; but the book said:

"Ans. From G.o.d, who made everything out of nothing."

"Q. How do you know that?"

"Ans. From nature and revelation."

Walter didn't know what it meant, but like the good-natured, obedient child that he was, he repeated faithfully what he had memorized from the book. It was annoying for him to have his Sundays spoiled by recitations in the Kings of Israel--days so well suited for rambling. He was jealous of the Jews, who were always led away--a misfortune that seemed delightful to him. But he worked away patiently, and was not the worst of those apprentices in religion. At the end of the year he received a book containing three hundred and sixty-five scriptural texts, twenty-one prayers, as many graces, the Lord's Prayer, the ten commandments and the articles of faith. It also contained directions for using it--once a day through the year, three times a day for a week, etc., etc.; or simply use as needed. On a leaf pasted in the front of the book was written:

To Walter Pieterse as a Reward for Excellent recitations in the Noorderkerk and as an Encouragement for him to continue to Honor G.o.d in the manner in which he has begun.

Under this were the names of the preacher and the officers of the church, ornamented with flourishes that would have put Pennewip to shame.

The outward respectability of the Hallemans continued to increase. The parents of these children had hired a garden on the "Overtoom." That was so "far out," they said; and then they "couldn't stay in the city forever." Besides, the expense was "not so much"; for there was one gardener for everybody; and then, there were plenty of berries growing there, and that was always very nice. There would be gra.s.s enough for bleaching the linen--an important item, for just lately, said the mother of the Hallemans, there had been iron-rust in Betty's dress. For that reason it was the very thing to rent the garden; and if people said anything about it, it would only be because they were jealous. And, too, there was a barrel there for rainwater; and Mrs. Karels had said it leaked, but it was not true; for everyone must know what he's doing; but when you do anything, everybody is talking about it. If one paid any attention to it, one would never get anything done--and it would be such a recreation for the children. Juffrouw Karels ought to attend to her own business--and when Gustave's birthday came, he might invite some "young gentlemen."

Gustave's birthday came. "Young gentlemen" were to be invited, and--Walter was among that select number.

It would lead me too far from the subject to enter upon an investigation of the motives that prompted Gustave and Franz to invite their former partner in the peppermint business. The list was made out and approved by their mother; and as Juffrouw Pieterse felt flattered, there was no objection from her side. Walter must promise, of course, to behave properly and be "respectable," not to soil his clothes, not to wrestle and tear his clothes, and many other things of a similar nature. Juffrouw Pieterse added that it was a great favor on her part to let him go, for such visits made a lot of work for her.

Yes, Walter was to make a visit! Eat, drink and enjoy himself under a strange roof. It was a great event in his life, and already he was becoming less jealous of the Jews, who went away so often, and finally never came back home at all.

It was midday now--that glorious midday. With indescribable dignity, for a boy, Walter stepped through the gate-way. "A little to right--to the left, to the left again, then over a bridge, and then to the right straight ahead. You can't miss it," Gustave had said. The name of the garden was "City Rest," so all Walter had to do was to "ask,"

and he would "find it."

And so it was.

Anyone making a call or visit for the first time always arrives too early. So it was with Walter, who reached City Rest before any of the other guests. But the boys received him cordially and presented him to their mother, who said that Walter had a pretty face, if it were only not so pale.

The other playmates came then, and running and throwing began, in the customary boyish style. This was interrupted with waffles and lemonade, which they "must drink quite slowly," because they were "wet with perspiration."

When the proud mother of the Hallemans was speaking of berries and the grossly slandered rainwater barrel, she might have mentioned the advantages of the leafy bower, where Betty was now sitting with a gentleman.

"Who is that?" asked Walter of little Emma, who was playing with the boys.

"That? That's Betty's sweetheart."

From that touching story of slender Cecilia we know that Walter already had his first love affair behind him; but still Emma's statement was to him something new. Up to that time he had thought that a sweetheart was a girl to whom one gives slatepencils and bonbons. But she seemed to be above such things. Walter saw immediately that he had not taken the right course with Cecilia; and all at once a desire came over him to know how a grown man treats a girl who is through school.

"Her sweetheart?"

"Oh yes--engage!"

That word was too modern for Walter. If the reader is sharp he can calculate in what year that girl married the barber's apprentice. All that is necessary is to determine when that stupid engage came into use in this sense in "III. 7, a."

"What did you say?" asked Walter.

"Engage--they go together."