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+Project Gutenberg Etext of The Belgian Twins, by Lucy Fitch Perkins
+#3 in our series by Lucy Fitch Perkins
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+Title:  The Belgian Twins
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+Author:  Lucy Fitch Perkins
+
+Release Date: January, 2003  [Etext #3642]
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+Project Gutenberg Etext of The Belgian Twins, by Lucy Fitch Perkins
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+
+
+
+THE BELGIAN TWINS
+
+By Lucy Fitch Perkins
+
+
+
+
+Geographical Series
+
+THE DUTCH TWINS PRIMER. Grade I.
+THE DUTCH TWINS. Grade III.
+THE ESKIMO TWINS. Grade II.
+THE FILIPINO TWINS. Grade IV.
+THE JAPANESE TWINS. Grade IV.
+THE SWISS TWINS. Grade IV.
+THE IRISH TWINS. Grade V.
+THE ITALIAN TWINS. Grades V and VI.
+THE SCOTCH TWINS. Grades V and VI.
+THE MEXICAN TWINS. Grade VI.
+THE BELGIAN TWINS. Grade VI.
+THE FRENCH TWINS. Grade VII.
+
+Historical Series
+
+THE CAVE TWINS. Grade IV.
+THE SPARTAN TWINS. Grades V-VI.
+THE PURITAN TWINS. Grades VI-VII.
+
+
+
+
+To the friends of Belgian Children --
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+In this sad hour of the world's history, when so many homes have
+been broken up, and so many hearts burdened with heavy sorrows,
+it is comforting to think of the many heroic souls who,
+throughout the struggle, have gone about their daily tasks with
+unfailing courage and cheerfulness, and by so doing have helped
+to carry the burdens of the world, and to sustain other hearts as
+heavy as their own.
+
+It is comforting, also, to know that there are many instances of
+happy reunions after long and unspeakable anxieties, adventures,
+and trials.
+
+This story of two little Belgian refugees is based upon the
+actual experience of two Belgian children, and the incident of
+the locket is quite true.
+
+The characters of the eel-woman and the mother of the Twins have
+also their living originals, from whose courage and devotion the
+author has received much inspiration.
+
+CONTENTS
+
+I. THE HARVEST-FIELD
+
+II. THE RUMORS
+
+III. THE ALARM
+
+IV. "FOR KING, FOR LAW AND LIBERTY"
+
+V. DOING A MAN'S WORK
+
+VI. AT THE CHURCH
+
+VII. THE TIDAL WAVE OF GERMANS
+
+VIII. GRANNY AND THE EELS
+
+IX. OFF FOR ANTWERP
+
+X. ON THE TOW-PATH
+
+XI. THE ATTACK
+
+XII. THE ZEPPELIN RAID
+
+XIII. REFUGEES
+
+XIV. THE MOST WONDERFUL PART
+
+
+THE BELGIAN TWINS
+
+I
+
+THE HARVEST-FIELD
+
+THE HARVEST-FIELD
+
+It was late in the afternoon of a long summer's day in Belgium.
+Father Van Hove was still at work in the harvest-field, though
+the sun hung so low in the west that his shadow, stretching far
+across the level, green plain, reached almost to the little red-
+roofed house on the edge of the village which was its home.
+Another shadow, not so long, and quite a little broader,
+stretched itself beside his, for Mother Van Hove was also in the
+field, helping her husband to load the golden sheaves upon an old
+blue farm-cart which stood near by.
+
+Them were also two short, fat shadows which bobbed briskly about
+over the green meadow as their owners danced among the wheat-
+sheaves or carried handfuls of fresh grass to Pier, the, patient
+white farm-horse, hitched to the cart. These gay shadows belonged
+to Jan and Marie, sometimes called by their parents Janke and
+Mie, for short. Jan and Marie were the twin son and daughter of
+Father and Mother Van Hove, and though they were but eight years
+old, they were already quite used to helping their father and
+mother with the work of their little farm.
+
+They knew how to feed the chickens and hunt the eggs and lead
+Pier to water and pull weeds in the garden. In the spring they
+had even helped sow the wheat and barley, and now in the late
+summer they were helping to harvest the grain.
+
+The children had been in the field since sunrise, but not all of
+the long bright day had been given to labor. Early in the morning
+their father's pitchfork had uncovered a nest of field mice, and
+the Twins had made another nest, as much like the first as
+possible, to put the homeless field babies in, hoping that their
+mother would find them again and resume her interrupted
+housekeeping.
+
+Then they had played for a long time in the tiny canal which
+separated the wheat-field from the meadow, where Bel, their
+black and white cow, was pastured. There was also Fidel, the dog,
+their faithful companion and friend. The children had followed
+him on many an excursion among the willows along the river-bank,
+for Fidel might at any moment come upon the rabbit or water rat
+which he was always seeking, and what a pity it would be for Jan
+and Marie to miss a sight like that!
+
+When the sun was high overhead, the whole family, and Fidel also,
+had rested under a tree by the little river, and Jan and Marie
+had shared with their father and mother the bread and cheese
+which had been brought from home for their noon meal. Then they
+had taken a nap in the shade, for it is a long day that begins
+and ends with the midsummer sun. The bees hummed so drowsily in
+the clover that Mother Van Hove also took forty winks, while
+Father Van Hove led Pier to the river for a drink; and tied him
+where he could enjoy the rich meadow grass for a while.
+
+And now the long day was nearly over. The last level rays of the
+disappearing sun glistened on the red roofs of the village, and
+the windows of the little houses gave back an answering flash of
+light. On the steeple of the tiny church the gilded cross shone
+like fire against the gray of the eastern sky.
+
+The village clock struck seven and was answered faintly by the
+sound of distant chimes from the Cathedral of Malines, miles away
+across the plain.
+
+For some time Father Van Hove had been standing on top of the
+load, catching the sheaves which Mother Van Hove tossed up to
+him, and stowing them away in the farm-wagon, which was already
+heaped high with the golden grain. As the clock struck, he paused
+in his labor, took off his hat, and wiped his brow. He listened
+for a moment to the music of the bells, glanced at the western
+sky, already rosy with promise of the sunset, and at the weather-
+cock above the cross on the church-steeple. Then he looked down
+at the sheaves of wheat, still standing like tiny tents across
+the field.
+
+"It's no use, Mother," he said at last; "we cannot put it all in
+to-night, but the sky gives promise of a fair day to-morrow, and
+the weather-cock, also, points east. We can finish in one more
+load; let us go home now."
+
+"The clock struck seven," cried Jan. "I counted the strokes."
+
+"What a scholar is our Janke!" laughed his mother, as she lifted
+the last sheaf of wheat on her fork and tossed it at Father Van
+Hove's feet. "He can count seven when it is supper-time! As for
+me, I do not need a clock; I can tell the time of day by the ache
+in my bones; and, besides that, there is Bel at the pasture bars
+waiting to be milked and bellowing to call me."
+
+"I don't need a clock either," chimed in Marie, patting her apron
+tenderly; "I can tell time by my stomach. It's a hundred years
+since we ate our lunch; I know it is."
+
+"Come, then, my starvelings," said Mother Van Hove, pinching
+Marie's fat cheek, "and you shall save your strength by riding
+home on the load! Here, Ma mie, up you go!"
+
+She swung Marie into the air as she spoke. Father Van Hove
+reached down from his perch on top of the load, caught her in his
+arms, and enthroned her upon the fragrant grain.
+
+"And now it is your turn, my Janke!" cried Mother Van Hove, "and
+you shall ride on the back of old Pier like a soldier going to
+the wars!" She lifted Jan to the horse's back, while Father Van
+Hove climbed down to earth once more and took up the reins.
+
+Fidel came back dripping wet from the river, shook himself, and
+fell in behind the wagon. "U - U!" cried Father Van Hove to old
+Pier, and the little procession moved slowly up the cart-path
+toward the shining windows of their red-roofed house.
+
+The home of the Van Hoves lay on the very outskirts of the little
+hamlet of Meer. Beside it ran a yellow ribbon of road which
+stretched across the green plain clear to the city of Malines. As
+they turned from the cart-path into the road, the old blue cart
+became part of a little profession of similar wagons, for the
+other men of Meer were also late in coming home to the village
+from their outlying farms.
+
+"Good-evening, neighbor," cried Father Van Hove to Father Maes,
+whose home lay beyond his in the village. "How are your crops
+coming on?"
+
+"Never better," answered Father Maes; "I have more wheat to the
+acre than ever before."
+
+"So have I, thanks be to the good God;" answered Father Van Hove.
+"The winter will find our barns full this year."
+
+"Yes," replied Father Maes a little sadly; "that is, if we have
+no bad luck, but Jules Verhulst was in the city yesterday and
+heard rumors of a German army on our borders. It is very likely
+only an idle tale to frighten the women and children, but Jules
+says there are men also who believe it."
+
+"I shall believe nothing of the sort," said Father Van Hove
+stoutly. "Are we not safe under the protection of our treaty? No,
+no, neighbor, there's nothing to fear! Belgium is neutral
+ground."
+
+"I hope you may be right," answered Father Maes, cracking his
+whip, and the cart moved on.
+
+Mother Van Hove, meanwhile, had hastened ahead of the cart to
+stir up the kitchen fire and put the kettle on before the others
+should reach home, and when Father Van Hove at last drove into
+the farmyard, she was already on the way to the pasture bars with
+her milk-pail on her arm. "Set the table for supper, ma Mie," she
+called back, "and do not let the pot boil over! Jan, you may shut
+up the fowls; they have already gone to roost."
+
+"And what shall I do, Mother?" laughed Father Van Hove.
+
+"You," she called back, "you may unharness Pier and turn him out
+in the pasture for the night! And I'll wager I shall be back with
+a full milk-pail before you've even so much as fed the pig, let
+alone the other chores--men are so slow!" She waved her hand
+gayly and disappeared behind the pasture bars, as she spoke.
+
+"Hurry, now, my man," said Father Van Hove to Jan. "We must not
+let Mother beat us! We will let the cart stand right there near
+the barn, and to-morrow we can store the grain away to make room
+for a new load. I will let you lead Pier to the pasture, while I
+feed the pig myself; by her squeals she is hungry enough to eat
+you up in one mouthful."
+
+
+II
+
+THE RUMORS
+
+THE RUMORS
+
+When Mother Van Hove returned from the pasture, fifteen minutes
+later, her orders had all been carried out. Pier was in the
+pasture, the hens were shut up for the night, and the pig, which
+had been squealing with hunger, was row grunting with
+satisfaction over her evening meal; Fidel was gnawing a bone, and
+Father Van Hove was already washing his hands at the pump, beside
+the kitchen door.
+
+"You are all good children," said the mother as she set down her
+brimming pail and took her turn at the wash-basin and the soap.
+"Jan and Marie, have you washed your hands?"
+
+"I have," called Marie from the kitchen, and supper is ready and
+the table set."
+
+"I washed my hands in the canal this morning," pleaded Jan.
+"Won't that do?"
+
+"You ate your lunch this noon, too," answered his mother
+promptly. "Won't that do? Why do you need to eat again when you
+have already eaten twice today?"
+
+"Because I am hungry again," answered Jan.
+
+"Well, you are also dirty again," said his mother, as she put the
+soap in his hands and wiped her own on the clean towel which
+Marie handed her from the door. She cleaned her wooden shoes on
+the bundle of straw which lay for the purpose beside the kitchen
+door; then she went inside and took her place opposite Father Van
+Hove at the little round oaken table by the window.
+
+Marie was already in her chair, and in a moment Jan joined them
+with a beaming smile and a face which, though clean in the
+middle, showed a gray border from ear to ear.
+
+"If you don't believe I'm clean, look at the towel!" he said,
+holding it up.
+
+"Oh, my heart!" cried his mother, throwing up her hands. "I
+declare there's but one creature in all God's world that cares
+nothing for cleanliness! Even a pig has some manners if given
+half a chance, but boys!" She seized the grimy towel and held it
+up despairingly for Father Van Hove to see. "He's just wet his
+face and wiped all the dirt off on the towel. The Devil himself
+is not more afraid of holy water than Jan Van Hove is of water of
+any kind!" she cried.
+
+"Go and wash yourself properly, Janke," said his father sternly,
+and Jan disappeared through the kitchen door. Sounds of vigorous
+pumping and splashing without were heard in the kitchen, and when
+Jan appeared once more, he was allowed to take his place at the
+supper-table with the family.
+
+Father Van Hove bowed his head, and the Twins and their mother
+made the sign of the cross with him, as he began their grace
+before meat. "In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the
+Holy Ghost, Amen," prayed Father Van Hove. "Hail, Mary, full of
+Grace." Then, as the prayer continued, the mother and children
+with folded hands and bowed heads joined in the petition: "Holy
+Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and in the hour of
+our death, Amen." A clatter of spoons followed the grace, and
+Mother Van Hove's good buttermilk pap was not long in
+disappearing down their four hungry throats.
+
+The long day in the open air had made the children so sleepy they
+could scarcely keep their eyes open through the meal. "Come, my
+children," said their mother briskly, as she rose from the table,
+"pop into bed, both of you, as fast as you can go. You are
+already half asleep! Father, you help them with their buttons,
+and hear them say their prayers, while I wash up these dishes and
+take care of the milk." She took a candle from the chimney-piece
+as she spoke, and started down cellar with the skimmer. When she
+came back into the kitchen once more, the children were safely
+tucked in bed, and her husband was seated by the kitchen door
+with his chair tipped back against the wall, smoking his evening
+pipe. Mother Van Hove cleared the table, washed the dishes, and
+brushed the crumbs from the tiled floor. Then she spread the
+white sand once more under the table and in a wide border around
+the edge of the room, and hung the brush outside the kitchen
+door.
+
+Father Van Hove smoked in silence as she moved about the room. At
+last he said to her, "Leonie, did you hear what our neighbor Maes
+said to-night as we were talking in the road?"
+
+"No," said his wife, "I was hurrying home to get supper."
+
+"Maes said there are rumors of a German army on our frontier,"
+said Father Van Hove.
+
+His wife paused in front of him with her hands on her hips. "Who
+brought that story to town?" she demanded.
+
+"Jules Verhulst," answered her husband.
+
+"Jules Verhulst!" sniffed Mother Van Hove with disdain. "He knows
+more things that aren't so than any man in this village. I
+wouldn't believe anything on his say-so! Besides, the whole world
+knows that all the Powers have agreed that Belgium shall be
+neutral ground, and have bound themselves solemnly to protect
+that neutrality. I learned that in school, and so did you."
+
+"Yes," sighed Father Van Hove. "I learned it too, and surely no
+nation can have anything against us! We have given no one cause
+for complaint that I know of."
+
+"It's nonsense," said his wife with decision. "Belgium is safe
+enough so far as that goes, but one certainly has to work hard
+here just to make ends meet and get food for all the hungry
+mouths! They say it is different in America; there you work less
+and get more, and are farther away from meddlesome neighboring
+countries besides. I sometimes wish we had gone there with my
+sister. She and her husband started with no more than we have,
+and now they are rich--at least they were when I last heard from
+them; but that was a long time ago," she finished.
+
+"Well," said Father Van Hove, as he stood up and knocked the
+ashes from his pipe, "it may be that they have more money and
+less work, but I've lived here in this spot ever since I was
+born, and my father before me. Somehow I feel I could never take
+root in any other soil. I'm content with things as they are."
+
+"So am I, for the matter of that," said Mother Van Hove
+cheerfully, as she put Fidel outside and shut the door for the
+night. Then, taking the candle from the chimney-piece once more,
+she led the way to the inner room, where the twins were already
+soundly sleeping.
+
+
+III
+
+THE ALARM
+
+THE ALARM
+
+For some time the little village of Meer slept quietly in the
+moonlight. There was not a sound to break the stillness, except
+once when Mother Van Hove's old rooster caught a glimpse of the
+waning moon through the window of the chicken-house, and crowed
+lustily, thinking it was the sun. The other roosters of the
+village, wiser than he, made no response to his call, and in a
+moment he, too, returned to his interrupted slumbers. But though
+there was as yet no sound to tell of their approach, the moon
+looked down upon three horsemen galloping over the yellow ribbon
+of road from Malines toward the little village. Soon the sound of
+the horses' hoofs beating upon the hardened earth throbbed
+through the village itself, and Fidel sat up on the kitchen
+doorstep, pricked up his ears, and listened. He heard the hoof-
+beats and awakened the echoes with a sharp bark.
+
+Mother Van Hove sat up in bed and listened; another dog barked,
+and another, and now she, too, heard the hoof-beats. Nearer they
+came, and nearer, and now she could hear a voice shouting. She
+shook her husband. "Wake up!" she whispered in his ear,
+"something is wrong! Fidel barks, and I hear strange noises
+about. Wake up!"
+
+"Fidel is crazy," said Father Van Hove sleepily. "He thinks some
+weasel is after the chickens very likely. Fidel will attend to
+it. Go to sleep."
+
+He sank back again upon his pillows, but his wife seized his arm
+and pulled him up.
+
+"Listen!" she said. "Oh, listen! Weasels do not ride on
+horseback! There are hoof-beats on the road!"
+
+"Some neighbor returning late from Malines," said Father Van
+Hove, yawning. "It does not concern us."
+
+But his wife was already out of bed, and at the window. The
+horsemen were now plainly visible, riding like the wind, and as
+they whirled by the houses their shout thrilled through the quiet
+streets of the village: "Burghers, awake! Awake! Awake!"
+
+Wide awake at last, Father Van Hove sprang out of bed and hastily
+began putting down his clothes. His wife was already nearly
+dressed, and had lighted a candle. Other lights sparkled from the
+windows of other houses. Suddenly the bell in the church-steeple
+began to ring wildly, as though it, too, were shaken with a
+sudden terror. "It must be a fire," said Father Van Hove.
+
+Still fastening her clothing, his wife ran out of the door and
+looked about in every direction. "I see no fire," she said, "but
+the village street is full of people running to the square!
+Hurry! Hurry! We must take the children with us; they must not be
+left here alone."
+
+She ran to wake the children, as she spoke, and, helped by her
+trembling fingers, they, too, were soon dressed, and the four ran
+together up the road toward the village church. The bell still
+clanged madly from the steeple, and the vibrations seemed to
+shake the very flesh of the trembling children as they clung to
+their mother's hands and tried to keep up with their father's
+rapid strides.
+
+They found all the village gathered in front of the little town-
+hall. On its steps stood the Burgomeister and the village priest,
+and near them, still sitting astride his foam-flecked steed, was
+one of the soldiers who had brought the alarm. His two companions
+were already far beyond Meer, flying over the road to arouse the
+villages which lay farther to the east. The church-bell suddenly
+ceased its metallic clatter, and while its deep tones still
+throbbed through the night air, the wondering and frightened
+people crowded about the steps in breathless suspense.
+
+The Burgomeister raised his hand. Even in the moonlight it could
+be seen that he was pale. He spoke quickly. "Neighbors," he said,
+"there is bad news! the German army is on our borders! It is
+necessary for every man of military age and training to join the
+colors at once in case the army is needed for defense. There is
+not a moment to lose. This messenger is from headquarters. He
+will tell you what you are to do."
+
+The soldier now spoke for the first time. "Men of Belgium," he
+cried, "your services are needed for your country and your King!
+The men of Meer are to report at once to the army headquarters at
+Malines. Do not stop even to change your clothing! We are not yet
+at war, and our good King Albert still hopes to avert it by an
+armed peace, but the neutrality of Belgium is at stake, and we
+must be ready to protect it at any cost, and at an instant's
+notice. Go at once to the Brussels gate of Malines. An officer
+will meet you there and tell you what to do. I must ride on to
+carry the alarm to Putte." He wheeled his horse as he spoke, and,
+turning in his saddle, lifted his sword and cried, "Vive le Roi!"
+
+"Vive le Roi! Vive la Belgique!" came in an answering shout from
+the people of Meer, and he was gone.
+
+There was a moment of stunned silence as he rode away; then a
+sound of women weeping. The Burgomeister came down from the steps
+of the town-hall, said farewell to his wife and children, and
+took his place at the head of the little group of men which was
+already beginning form in marching order. The priest moved about
+among his people with words of comfort.
+
+Father Van Hove turned to his wife, and to Jan and Marie, who
+were clinging to her skirts. "It is only a bad dream, my little
+ones," he said, patting their heads tenderly; "we shall wake up
+some day. And you, my wife, do not despair! I shall soon return,
+no doubt! Our good King will yet save us from war. You must
+finish the harvest alone--but--" "Fall in!" cried the voice of
+the Burgomeister, and Father Van Hove kissed his wife and
+children and stepped forward.
+
+Mother Van Hove bravely checked her rising sobs. "We shall go
+with you to Malines, at any rate," she said firmly. And as the
+little group of men started forward along the yellow road, she
+and many more women and children of the village marched, away
+with them in the gray twilight which precedes the coming of the
+dawn. The priest went with his people, praying for them as he
+walked, in a voice that shook with feeling.
+
+The sky was red in the east and the larks were already singing
+over the quiet fields when the men of Meer, followed by their
+wives and children, presented themselves at the Brussels gate of
+the city.
+
+
+IV
+
+"FOR KING, FOR LAW AND LIBERTY"
+
+
+"FOR KING, FOR LAW AND LIBERTY"
+
+At the gate they were met by an officer, who at once took command
+of the company. There was only a moment for hasty good-byes
+before the order to march was given, and the women and children
+watched the little column stride bravely away up the street
+toward the armory, where the uniforms and arms were kept. They
+followed at a little distance and took up their station across
+the street from the great doors through which the men had
+disappeared. There was little talking among them. Only the voice
+of the priest could be heard now and then, as he said a few words
+to one and another of the waiting women. It was still so early in
+the morning that the streets of the city were not yet filled with
+people going to work. Only those, like themselves, concerned with
+the sad business of war were abroad.
+
+To Jan and Marie the long wait seemed endless, but at last the
+doors of the armory sprang open; there was a burst of martial
+music, and a band playing the national hymn appeared. "For King,
+for law and liberty!" thrilled the bugles, and amidst the waving
+of flags, and the cheers of the people, who had now begun to fill
+the streets, a regiment of soldiers marched away toward the
+north. Jan and Marie stood with their mother on the edge of the
+sidewalk, eagerly scanning every face as the soldiers passed, and
+at last Jan shouted, "I see Father! I see Father!"
+
+Mother Van Hove lifted her two children high in her arms for him
+to see, but Father Van Hove could only smile a brave good-bye as
+he marched swiftly past.
+
+"No tears, my children!" cried the priest; "let them see no
+tears! Send them away with a smile!" And, standing on the edge of
+the sidewalk, he made the sign of the cross and raised his hand
+in blessing, as the troops went by.
+
+For a time Mother Van Hove and the children ran along the
+sidewalk, trying to keep pace with the soldiers, but their quick
+strides were too much for the Twins, and it was not long before
+Marie said, breathlessly, "My legs are too short! I can't
+run so fast!"
+
+"I can't too!" gasped Jan. Mother Van Hove stopped short at
+once, and the three stood still, hand in hand, and watched the
+soldiers until they turned a corner and disappeared from sight
+through the Antwerp gate of the city.
+
+They were quite alone, for the other women and children had gone
+no farther than the armory, and were already on their homeward
+way to Meer. Now for the first time Mother Van Hove gave way to
+grief, and Jan and Marie wept with her; but it was only for a
+moment. Then she wiped her eyes, and the Twins' too, on her
+apron, and said firmly: "Come, my lambs! Tears will not bring him
+back! We must go home now as fast as we can. There is need there
+for all that we can do! You must be the man of the house now, my
+Janke, and help me take your father's place on the farm; and
+Marie must be our little house-mother. We must be as brave as
+soldiers, even though we cannot fight."
+
+"I think I could be braver if I had some breakfast," sobbed
+Janke.
+
+Mother Van Hove struck her hands together in dismay. "I never
+once thought of food!" she cried, "and I haven't a red cent with
+me! We cannot buy a breakfast! We must just go hungry until we
+get home! But soldiers must often go hungry, my little ones. We
+must be as brave as they. Come, now. I will be the captain!
+Forward march!"
+
+Jan and Marie stiffened their little backs, as she gave the word
+of command, and, shoulder to shoulder, they marched down the
+street toward the city gate to the martial refrain, "Le Roi, la
+loi, la liberte," which Mother Van Hove hummed for them under her
+breath.
+
+It was a long way back to the little farm-house, and when at last
+the three weary pilgrims reached it, they were met by an
+indignant chorus of protests from all the creatures which had
+been left behind. Bel was lowing at the pasture bars, the pig was
+squealing angrily in her pen, the rooster had crowed himself
+hoarse, and Fidel, patient Fidel, was sitting on guard at the
+back door.
+
+Mother Van Hove flew into the kitchen the moment she reached the
+house, and in two minutes Jan and Marie were seated before a
+breakfast of bread and milk. Then she fed the pig, let out the
+hens, and gave Fidel a bone which she had saved for him from the
+soup. Last of all, she milked the cow, and when this was done,
+and she had had a cup of coffee herself, the clock in the steeple
+struck twelve.
+
+Even Mother Van Hove's strength was not equal to work in the
+harvest-field that day, but she stowed the load of wheat which
+had been brought home the night before in the barn, and, after
+the chores were done at night, she and the Twins went straight to
+bed and slept as only the very weary can, until the sun streamed
+into their windows in the morning.
+
+
+V
+
+DOING A MAN'S WORK
+
+DOING A MAN'S WORK
+
+When Jan and Marie awoke, their mother's bed was empty. "She's
+gone to milk the cow," cried Marie. "Come, Jan, we will surprise
+her! When she comes back from the pasture, we will have breakfast
+all ready."
+
+"You can," said Jan, as he struggled into his clothes, and
+twisted himself nearly in two trying to do up the buttons in the
+back; "you can, but I must do a man's work! I will go out and
+feed the pig and catch old Pier and hitch him to the cart," he
+said importantly. "I must finish the wheat harvest to-day."
+
+"Ho!" said Marie. "You will spill the pig-feed all over yourself!
+You are such a messy boy!"
+
+"I guess I can do it just as well as you can make coffee," said
+Jan with spirit. "You've never made coffee in your life!"
+
+"I've watched Mother do it lots of times," said Marie. "I'm sure
+I can do it just the same way."
+
+"All right, let's see you do it, then," said Jan. And he strode
+out of the room with his hands in his pockets, taking as long
+steps as his short legs would permit.
+
+When she was dressed and washed, Marie ran to the pump and filled
+the kettle. Then she stirred the embers of the fire in the
+kitchen and put on fresh coal. She set the kettle on to boil and
+only slopped a little water on her apron in doing so. Then she
+put the dishes on the table.
+
+Meanwhile she heard no sound from Jan. She went to the kitchen
+door and looked out. Jan had already let out the fowls, and was
+just in the act of feeding the pig. He had climbed up on the
+fence around the pig-pen, and by dint of great effort had
+succeeded in lifting the heavy pail of feed to the top of it. He
+was now trying to let it down on the other side and pour the
+contents into the trough, but the pig was greedy, and the moment
+the pail came within reach, she stuck her nose and her fore feet
+into it. This added weight was too much for poor Jan; down went
+the pail with a crash into the trough, and Jan himself tumbled
+suddenly forward, his feet flew out behind, and he was left
+hanging head down, like a jack knife, over the fence!
+
+It was just at this moment that Marie came to the door, and when
+she saw Jan balancing on the fence and kicking out wildly with
+his feet, she screamed with laughter.
+
+Jan was screaming, too, but with pain and indignation. "Come here
+and pick me off this fence!" he roared. "it's cutting me in two!
+Oh, Mother! Mother!"
+
+Marie ran to the pigpen as fast as, she could go. She snatched an
+old box by the stable as she ran, and, placing it against the
+fence, seized one of Jan's feet, which were still waving wildly
+in the air, and planted it firmly on the box.
+
+"Oh! Oh!" laughed Marie, as Jan reached the ground once more. "If
+you could only have seen yourself, Jan! You would have laughed,
+too! Instead of pouring the pig-feed on to yourself, you poured
+yourself on to the pig-feed!"
+
+"I don't see anything to laugh at," said Jan with dignity; "it
+might have happened to any man."
+
+"Anyway, you'll have to get the pail again," said Marie, wiping
+her eyes. "That greedy pig will bang it all to pieces, if you
+leave it in the pen."
+
+"I can't reach it," said Jan.
+
+"Yes, you can," said Marie. "I'll hold your legs so you won't
+fall in, and you can fish for it with a stick." She ran for a
+stick to poke with, while Jan bravely mounted the box again, and,
+firmly anchored by Marie's grasp upon his legs, he soon succeeded
+in rescuing the pail.
+
+"Anyway, I guess I've fed the pig just as well as you have made
+the coffee," he said, as he handed it over to Marie.
+
+"Oh, my sakes!" cried Marie; "I forgot all about the coffee!" And
+she ran back to the kitchen, to find that the kettle had boiled
+over and put the fire out.
+
+Jan stuck hid head in the door, just as she got the bellows to
+start the fire again. "What did I tell you!" he shouted, running
+out his tongue derisively.
+
+"Scat!" said Marie, shaking the bellows at him, and Jan sauntered
+away toward the pasture with Pier's halter over his arm.
+
+Pier had been eating grass for two nights and a day without doing
+any work, and it took Jan some time to catch him and put the
+halter over his head. When at last he returned from the pasture,
+red and tired, but triumphant, leading Pier, Marie and her mother
+had already finished their breakfast.
+
+"Look what a man we have!" cried Mother Van Hove as Jan appeared.
+"He has caught Pier all by himself."
+
+"He lifted me clear off my feet when I put his halter on," said
+Jan proudly, "but I hung on and he had to come!"
+
+"Marie," cried her mother, "our Jan has earned a good breakfast!
+Cook an egg for him, while I hitch Pier to the cart. Then, while
+he and I work in the field, you can put the house in order. There
+is only one more load to bring in, and we can do that by
+ourselves."
+
+By noon the last of the wheat had been garnered, and this time
+Jan drove Pier home, while his mother sat on the load. In the
+afternoon the three unloaded the wagon and stowed the grain away
+in the barn to be threshed; and when the long day's work was
+over, and they had eaten their simple supper of bread and milk,
+Mother Van Hove and the children went together down the village
+street to see their neighbors and hear the news, if there should
+be any.
+
+There were no daily papers in Meer, and now there were no young
+men to go to the city and bring back the gossip of the day, as
+there had used to be. The women, with their babies on their arms,
+stood about in the street, talking quietly and sadly among
+themselves. On the doorsteps a few old men lingered together over
+their pipes. Already the bigger boys were playing soldier, with
+paper caps on their heads, and sticks for guns. The smaller
+children were shouting and chasing each other through the little
+street of the village. Jan and Marie joined in a game of
+blindman's buff, while Mother Van Hove stopped with the group of
+women.
+
+"If we only knew what to expect!" sighed the Burgomeister's wife,
+as she shifted her baby from one arm to the other. "It seems as
+if we should know better what to do. In a day or two I shall send
+my big boy Leon to the city for a paper. It is hard to wait
+quietly and know nothing."
+
+"Our good King and Queen doubtless know everything," said the
+wife of Boer Maes. "They will do better for us than we could do
+for ourselves, even if we knew all that they do."
+
+"And there are our own brave men, besides," added Mother Van
+Hove. "We must not forget them! We are not yet at war. I pray God
+we may not be, and that we shall soon see them come marching home
+again to tell us that the trouble, whatever it is, is over, and
+that we may go on living in peace as we did before."
+
+"It seems a year since yesterday," said the Burgomeister's wife.
+
+"Work makes the time pass quickly," said Mother Van Hove
+cheerfully. "Jan and I got in the last of our wheat to-day. He
+helped me like a man."
+
+"Who will thresh it for you?" asked the wife of Boer Maes.
+
+"I will thresh it myself, if need be," said Mother Van Hove with
+spirit. "My good man shall not come home and find the farm- work
+behind if I can help it." And with these brave words she said
+good-night to the other women, called Jan and Marie, and turned
+once more down the street toward the little house on the edge of
+the village. Far across the peaceful twilight fields came the
+sound of distant bells. "Hark!" said Mother Van Hove to the Twins-
+-"the cathedral bells of Malines! And they are playing 'The Lion
+of Flanders!'"
+
+(three lines of music)
+
+sang the bells, and, standing upon the threshold of her little
+home, with head held proudly erect, Mother Van Hove lifted her
+voice and joined the words to the melody. "They will never
+conquer him, the old Lion of Flanders, so long as he has claws!"
+she sang, and the Twins, looking up into her brave and inspired
+face, sang too.
+
+
+VI
+
+AT THE CHURCH
+
+AT THE CHURCH
+
+Several days passed quietly by in the little village of Meer. The
+sun shone, and the wind blew, and the rains fell upon the
+peaceful fields, just as if nothing whatever had happened. Each
+day was filled to the brim with hard work. With the help of the
+Twins, Mother Van Hove kept the garden free of weeds and took
+care of the stock. She even threshed the wheat herself with her
+husband's flail, and stored the grain away in sacks ready for the
+mill. Each evening, when the work was done, the three went down
+the village street together. One evening, just at dusk, they
+found nearly the whole village gathered in front of the priest's
+house next to the church. Leon, the Burgomeister's oldest boy,
+had been to Malines that day and had brought back a paper.
+
+The priest was reading from it to the anxious group gathered
+about him. "Oh, my children," he was saying, as Mother Van Hove
+and the Twins joined the group, "there is, no doubt, need for
+courage, but where is there a Belgian lacking in that? Even
+Julius Caesar, two thousand years ago, found that out! The
+bravest of all are the Belgians, he said then, and it is none the
+less true to-day! The Germans have crossed our eastern frontier.
+It is reported that they are already burning towns and killing
+the inhabitants if they resist. God knows what may be before us.
+Our good King Albert has asked Parliament to refuse the demands
+of the Germans. In spite of their solemn treaty with us, they
+demand that we permit them to cross Belgium to attack France. To
+this our brave King and Parliament will never consent; no true
+Belgian would wish them to. There is, then, this choice either
+to submit absolutely to the invasion of our country, or to defend
+it! The army is already in the field."
+
+There was a moment of heavy silence as he finished speaking. Then
+the voice of the Burgomeister's wife was heard in the stillness.
+"Oh, Mynheer Pastoor," she said to the priest, "what shall we do?
+There is no place to go to we have no refuge!"
+
+"God is our refuge and strength, my children," said the priest,
+lifting his eyes to heaven. "We have no other! You must stay
+here, and if the terrible Germans come, hide yourselves away as
+best you can, until they have passed by. Do not anger them by
+resisting. Bow your heads to the storm and have faith in God that
+it may soon pass over." He turned and led the way toward the
+little church as he spoke. "Come," he said, "let us pray before
+God's holy altar, and if the enemy comes, seek refuge in the
+church itself. Surely even the Germans will respect the
+sanctuary."
+
+Solemnly the people filed into the little church, lighted only by
+the candles on the altar, and knelt upon the hard floor. The
+priest left them there, praying silently, while he went to put on
+the robes of his offices. Then once more he appeared before the
+altar, and led the kneeling congregation in the litany.
+
+"From war and pestilence and sudden death, Good Lord, deliver
+us," he prayed at last, and all the people responded with a
+fervent "Amen."
+
+That night, when she put her children to bed, Mother Van Hove
+fastened a chain with a locket upon it about Marie's neck.
+"Listen, ma Mie," she said, "and you, too, my little Jan. God
+only knows what may be before us. This locket contains my
+picture. You must wear it always about your neck, and remember
+that your mother's name is Leonie Van Hove, and your father's
+name is Georges Van Hove. If by any chance--which God forbid--we
+should become separated from one another, keep the locket on your
+neck, and our names in your memory until we meet again; for if
+such a thing should happen, do not doubt that I should find you,
+though I had to swim the sea to do it! For you, my Jan, I have no
+locket, but you are a man, a brave man, now! You must take care
+of yourself and your sister, too, if need should arise, and above
+all, remember this--only the brave are safe. Whatever happens,
+you must remember that you are Belgians, and be brave!"
+
+The children clung to her, weeping, as she finished. "There,
+there," she said soothingly: "I had to tell you this so you would
+be ready to do your best and not despair, whatever might happen,
+but be sure, my lambs, nothing shall harm you if I can help it,
+and nothing shall separate us from one another if God so wills.
+Now, go to sleep!"
+
+She kissed them tenderly, and, quite comforted, they nestled down
+in their beds and soon were asleep. She herself slept but little
+that night. Long after the children were quiet, she sat alone on
+the kitchen step in the darkness with Fidel by her side, and
+listened to the faint sounds of distant guns, and watched the red
+light in the sky, which told her of the burning of Louvain.
+
+
+VII
+
+THE TIDAL WAVE OF
+GERMANS
+
+THE TIDAL WAVE OF
+GERMANS
+
+The next morning dawned bright and clear, and Mother Van Hove and
+the Twins went about their work as usual. The sunshine was so
+bright, and the whole countryside looked so peaceful and fair, it
+was impossible to believe that the terrors of the night could be
+true.
+
+"To-day we must begin to gather the potatoes," said Mother Van
+Hove after breakfast. "Jan, you get the fork and hoe and put them
+in the wagon, while I milk the cow and Marie puts up some bread
+and cheese for us to take to the field." She started across the
+road to the pasture, with Fidel at her heels, as she spoke. In an
+instant she was back again, her eyes wide with horror. "Look!
+Look!" she cried.
+
+The dazed children looked toward the east as she pointed. There
+in the distance, advancing like a great tidal wave, was a long
+gray line of soldiers on horseback. Already they could hear the
+sound of music and the throb of drums; already the sun glistened
+upon the shining helmets and the cruel points of bayonets. The
+host stretched away across the plain as far as the eye could
+reach, and behind them the sky was thick with the smoke of fires.
+
+"The church! the church!" cried Mother Van Hove. "No, there is
+not time. Hide in here, my darlings. Quickly! Quickly!"
+
+She tore open the door of the earth-covered vegetable cellar as
+she spoke, and thrust Jan and Marie inside. Fidel bolted in after
+them. "Do not move or make a sound until all is quiet again," she
+cried as she closed the door.
+
+There was not room for her too, in the cellar, and if there had
+been, Mother Van Hove would not have taken it, for it was
+necessary to close the door from the outside. This she did,
+hastily, throwing some straw before it. Then she rushed into the
+house and, snatching up her shining milk-pans, flung them upon
+the straw, as if they were placed there to be sweetened by the
+sun. No one would think to look under a pile of pans for hidden
+Belgians, she felt sure.
+
+Nearer and nearer came the hosts, and now she could hear the
+sound of singing as from ten thousand brazen throats,
+"Deutschland, Deutschland uber Alles," roared the mighty chorus,
+and in another moment the little village of Meer was submerged in
+the terrible gray flood.
+
+At last, after what seemed to the imprisoned children like a year
+of darkness and dread, and of strange, terrifying noises of all
+kinds, the sound of horses' hoofs and marching feet died away in
+the distance, and Jan ventured to push open the door of the
+cavern a crack, just intending to peep out. Immediately there was
+a crash of falling tinware. Jan quickly drew back again into the
+safe darkness and waited. As nothing further happened, he peeped
+out again. This time Fidel, springing forward, flung the doors
+wide open, and dashed out into the sunshine with a joyous bark.
+
+In a moment more Jan and Marie also crawled out of their hiding-
+place after him. For an instant, as they came out into the
+daylight, it seemed to the children as if they had awakened from
+a dreadful dream. There stood the farmhouse just as before, with
+the kitchen door wide open and the sun streaming in upon the
+sanded floor. There were only the marks of many feet in the soft
+earth of the farmyard, an empty pigpen, and a few chicken
+feathers blowing about the hen house, to show where the invaders
+had been and what they had carried away with them. Jan and Marie,
+followed by Fidel, ran through the house. From the front door,
+which opened on the road; they could see the long gray line
+sweeping across the fields toward Malines.
+
+"The storm has passed, cried Marie, sobbing with grief, "just as
+Mynheer Pastoor said it would! Mother! Mother, where are you?"
+They ran from kitchen to bedroom and back again, their terror
+increasing at every step, as no voice answered their call. They
+searched the cellar and the loft; they looked in the stable and
+barn, and even in the dog-house. Their mother was nowhere to be
+found!
+
+"I know where she must be," cried Jan, at last. "You know Mynheer
+Pastoor said, if anything happened, we should hide in the
+church." Led by this hope, the two children sped, hand in hand,
+toward the village. "Bel is gone!" gasped Jan, as they passed the
+pasture bars. " Pier, too," sobbed Marie. Down the whole length
+of the deserted village street they flew, with Fidel following
+close at their heels. When they came to the little church, they
+burst open the door and looked in. The cheerful sun streamed
+through the windows, falling in brilliant patches of light upon
+the floor, but the church was silent and empty. It was some time
+before they could realize that there was not a human being but
+themselves in the entire village; all the others had been driven
+away like sheep, before the invading army. When at last the
+terrible truth dawned upon them, the two frightened children sat
+down upon the church steps in the silence, and clung, weeping, to
+each other. Fidel whined and licked their hands, as though he,
+too, understood and felt their loneliness.
+
+"What shall we do? What shall we do?" moaned Marie.
+
+"There's nobody to tell us what to do," sobbed Jan. "We must just
+do the best we can by ourselves."
+
+"We can't stay here alone!" said Marie.
+
+"But where can we go?" cried Jan. There's no place for us to go
+to!"
+
+For a few minutes the two children wept their hearts out in utter
+despair, but hope always comes when it is most needed, and soon
+Marie raised her head and wiped her eyes.
+
+"Don't you remember what Mother said when she put the locket on
+my neck, Jan?" she asked. "She said that she would find us, even
+if she had to swim the sea! She said no matter what happened we
+should never despair, and here we are despairing as hard as ever
+we can."
+
+Jan threw up his chin, and straightened his back. "Yes," he said,
+swallowing his sobs, "and she said I was now a man and must take
+care of myself and you."
+
+"What shall we do, then?" asked Marie.
+
+Jan thought hard for a moment. Then he said: "Eat! It must be
+late, and we have not had a mouthful to-day."
+
+Marie stood up. "Yes," said she; "we must eat. Let us go back
+home."
+
+The clock in the steeple struck eleven as the two children ran
+once more through the deserted street and began a search for food
+in their empty house.
+
+They found that the invaders had been as thorough within the
+house as without. Not only had they carried away the grain which
+their mother had worked so hard to thresh, but they had cleaned
+the cupboard as well. The hungry children found nothing but a few
+crusts of bread, a bit of cheese, and some milk in the cellar,
+but with these and two eggs, which Jan knew where to look for in
+the straw in the barn, they made an excellent breakfast. They
+gave Fidel the last of the milk, and then, much refreshed, made
+ready to start upon a strange and lonely journey the end of which
+they did not know. They tied their best clothes in a bundle,
+which Jan hung upon a stick over his shoulder, and were just
+about to leave the house, when Marie cried out, "Suppose Mother
+should come back and find us gone!"
+
+"We must leave word where we have gone, so she will know where to
+look for us, of course," Jan answered capably.
+
+"Yes, but how?" persisted Marie. "There's no one to leave word
+with!"
+
+This was a hard puzzle, but Jan soon found a way out. "We must
+write a note and pin it up where she would be sure to find it,"
+he said.
+
+"The very thing," said Marie.
+
+They found a bit of charcoal and a piece of wrapping-paper, and
+Jan was all ready to write when a new difficulty presented
+itself. "What shall I say?" he said to Marie. "We don't know
+where we are going!"
+
+"We don't know the way to any place but Malines," said Marie; "so
+we'll have to go there, I suppose."
+
+"How do you spell Malines?" asked Jan, charcoal in hand.
+
+"Oh, you stupid boy!" cried Marie. "M-a-l-i-n-e-s, of course!"
+
+Jan put the paper down on the kitchen floor and got down before
+it on his hands and knees. He had not yet learned to write, but
+he managed to print upon it in great staggering letters:--
+
+"DEAR MOTHER
+
+WE HAVE GONE TO MALINES TO FIND YOU.
+
+JAN AND MARIE."
+
+This note they pinned upon the inside of the kitchen door.
+
+"Now we are ready to start," said Jan; and, calling Fidel, the
+two children set forth. They took a short cut from the house
+across the pasture to the potato-field. Here they dug a few
+potatoes, which they put in their bundle, and then, avoiding the
+road, slipped down to the river, and, following the stream, made
+their way toward Malines.
+
+It was fortunate for them that, screened by the bushes and trees
+which fringed the bank of the river, they saw but little of the
+ruin and devastation left in the wake of the German hosts. There
+were farmers who had tried to defend their families and homes
+from the invaders. Burning houses and barns marked the places
+where they had lived and died. But the children, thinking only
+of their lost mother, and of keeping themselves as much out of
+sight as possible in their search for her, were spared most of
+these horrors. Their progress was slow, for the bundle was heavy,
+and the river path less direct than the road, and it was
+nightfall before the two little waifs, with Fidel at their heels,
+reached the well-remembered Brussels gate.
+
+Their hearts almost stopped beating when they found it guarded by
+a German soldier. "Who goes there?" demanded the guard gruffly,
+as he caught sight of the little figures.
+
+"If you please, sir, it's Jan and Marie," said Jan, shaking in
+his boots.
+
+"And Fidel, too," said Marie.
+
+The soldier bent down and looked closely at the two tear-stained
+little faces. It may be that some remembrance of other little
+faces stirred within him, for he only said stiffly, "Pass, Jan
+and Marie, and you, too, Fidel." And the two children and the dog
+hurried through the gate and up the first street they came to,
+their bundle bumping along behind them as they ran.
+
+The city seemed strangely silent and deserted, except for the
+gray-clad soldiers, and armed guards blocked the way at
+intervals. Taught by fear, Jan and Marie soon learned to slip
+quietly along under cover of the gathering darkness, and to dodge
+into a doorway or round a corner, when they came too near one of
+the stiff, helmeted figures.
+
+At last, after an hour of aimless wandering, they found
+themselves in a large, open square, looking up at the tall
+cathedral spires. A German soldier came suddenly out of the
+shadows, and the frightened children, scarcely knowing what they
+did, ran up the cathedral steps and flung themselves against the
+door. When the soldier had passed by, they reached cautiously up,
+and by dint of pulling with their united strength succeeded at
+last in getting the door open. They thrust their bundle inside,
+pushed Fidel in after it, and then slipped through themselves.
+The great door closed behind them on silent hinges and they were
+alone in the vast stillness of the cathedral. Timidly they crept
+toward the lights of the altar, and, utterly exhausted, slept
+that night on the floor near the statue of the Madonna, with
+their heads pillowed on Fidel's shaggy side.
+
+
+VIII
+
+GRANNY AND THE EELS
+
+GRANNY AND THE EELS
+
+When the cathedral bells rang the next morning for early mass,
+the children were still sleeping the sleep of utter exhaustion.
+It was not until the bells had ceased to ring, and the door,
+opening from the sacristy near their resting place, creaked upon
+its hinges, that even Fidel was aroused. True to his watchdog
+instincts, he started to his feet with a low growl, letting the
+heads of Jan and Marie down upon the floor with a sudden bump.
+For an instant the awakened children could not remember where
+they were or what had happened to them. They sat up and rubbed
+their heads, but the habit of fear was already so strong upon
+them that they made no sound and instantly quieted Fidel. Again
+the door creaked, and through it there appeared a tall figure
+dressed in priestly robes. The children were so near that had
+they thrust their hands through the railing of the communion bank
+behind which they were concealed, they might have touched him as
+he passed before the altar of the Virgin and presented himself in
+front of the high altar to conduct the mass. His head, as he
+passed them, was bowed. His face was pale and thin, and marked
+with lines of deep sorrow.
+
+"Oh," whispered Marie to Jan, "it must be the Cardinal himself.
+Mother told me about him."
+
+The whisper made such a loud sound in the silence of the great
+cathedral aisles that Jan was afraid to reply. For answer he only
+laid his finger upon his lips and crept still farther back into
+the shadow. Fidel seemed to know that dogs were not allowed in
+church and that it was necessary for him to be quiet, too, for he
+crawled back with the children into the sheltering darkness.
+
+There were only a few persons in the cathedral, and those few
+were near the door; so no one saw the children as they knelt with
+folded hands and bowed heads in their corner, reverently
+following the service as the Cardinal ate the sacred wafer and
+drank the communion wine before the altar. Later they were to
+know his face as the bravest and best beloved in all Belgium next
+to those of the King and Queen themselves.
+
+When again he passed the kneeling little figures on his return to
+the sacristy, their lonely hearts so ached for care and
+protection, and his face looked so kind and pitiful, that they
+almost dared to make their presence known and to ask for the help
+they sorely needed. Marie, bolder than Jan, half rose as he
+passed, but Jan pulled her back, and in another instant the door
+had closed behind him and he was gone.
+
+"Oh," sobbed Marie under her breath, "he looked so kind! He might
+have helped us. Why did you pull me back?"
+
+"How could we let him see Fidel, and tell him that our dog had
+slept all night before the altar?" answered Jan. "I shouldn't
+dare! He is a great Prince of the Church!"
+
+The sound of scraping chairs told them that the little
+congregation had risen from its knees and was passing out of the
+church. They waited until every one had disappeared through the
+great door, and then made a swift flight down the echoing aisle
+and out into the sunlight. For a moment they stood hand in hand
+upon the cathedral steps, clasping their bundle and waiting for
+the next turn of fortune's wheel.
+
+The bright sunlight of the summer day, shining on the open
+square, almost blinded them, and what they saw in the square,
+when their eyes had become used to it, did not comfort them.
+Everywhere there were German soldiers with their terrible
+bayonets and pointed helmets and their terrible songs. Everywhere
+there were pale and desperate Belgians fleeing before the
+arrogant German invader.
+
+"Oh, Jan," whispered Marie clinging to him, "there are so many
+people! How shall we ever find Mother? I didn't know there were
+so many people in the whole world."
+
+"It isn't likely that we'll find her by just standing here,
+anyway," answered Jan. "We've got to keep going till we get
+somewhere."
+
+He slung the bundle on his shoulder and whistled to Fidel, who
+had gone down the steps to bark at a homeless cat.
+
+"Come along," he said to Marie. And once more the little pilgrims
+took up their journey. At the first corner they paused, not
+knowing whether to go to the right or to the left.
+
+"Which way?" said Marie.
+
+Jan stood still and looked first in one direction and then in the
+other.
+
+"Here, gutter-snipes, what are you standing here for? Make way
+for your betters!" said a gruff voice behind them, and, turning,
+the children found themselves face to face with a German officer
+dressed in a resplendent uniform and accompanied by a group of
+swaggering young soldiers. Too frightened to move, the children
+only looked up at him and did not stir.
+
+"Get out of the way, I tell you!" roared the officer, turning
+purple with rage; "Orderly!" One of the young men sprang
+forward. He seized Jan by the arm and deftly kicked him into the
+gutter. Another at the same moment laid his hands on Marie. But
+he reckoned without Fidel, faithful Fidel, who knew no difference
+between German and Belgian, but knew only that no cruel hand
+should touch his beloved Marie, while he was there to defend her.
+With a fierce growl he sprang at the young orderly and buried his
+teeth in his leg. Howling with pain, the orderly dropped Marie,
+while another soldier drew his sword with an oath and made a
+thrust at Fidel. Fortunately Fidel was too quick for him. He let
+go his hold upon the leg of the orderly, tearing a large hole in
+his uniform as he did so, and flung himself directly between the
+legs of the other soldier who was lunging at him with the sword.
+The next instant the surprised German found himself sprawling
+upon the sidewalk, and saw Fidel, who had escaped without a
+scratch, dashing wildly up the street after Jan and Marie. Beside
+himself with rage, the soldier drew a revolver and fired a shot,
+which barely missed Fidel, and buried itself in the doorstep of
+the house past which he was running.
+
+If Jan and Marie had not turned a corner just at that moment, and
+if Fidel had not followed them, there is no telling what might
+have happened next, for the young soldier was very angry indeed.
+Perhaps he considered it beneath his dignity to run after them,
+and perhaps he saw that Jan and Marie could both run like the
+wind and he would not be likely to catch them if he did. At any
+rate, he did not follow. He picked himself up and dusted his
+clothes, using very bad language as he did so, and followed the
+officer and his companions up the street.
+
+Meanwhile the tired children ran on and on, fear lending speed to
+their weary legs. Round behind the great cathedral they sped,
+hoping to find some way of escape from the terrors of the town,
+but their way was blocked by the smoking ruins of a section of
+the city which the Germans had burned in the night, and there was
+no way to get out in that direction. Terrified and faint with
+hunger, they turned once more, and, not knowing where they were
+going, stumbled at last upon the street which led to the Antwerp
+gate.
+
+"I remember this place;" cried Jan, with something like joy in
+his voice. "Don't you remember, Marie? It's where we stood to
+watch the soldiers, and Mother sang for us to march, because we
+were so tired and hungry."
+
+"I'm tired and hungry now, too," said poor Marie.
+
+"Let's march again," said Jan.
+
+"Where to?" said Marie.
+
+"That's the way Father went when he marched away with the
+soldiers," said Jan, pointing to the Antwerp gate. "Anything is
+better than staying here. Let's go that way." He started bravely
+forward once more, Marie and Fidel following.
+
+They found themselves only two wretched atoms in one of the
+saddest processions in history, for there were many other people,
+as unhappy as themselves, who were also trying to escape from the
+city. Some had lived in the section which was now burning; others
+had been turned out of their homes by the Germans; and all were
+hastening along, carrying babies and bundles, and followed by
+groups of older children.
+
+Jan and Marie were swept along with the hurrying crowd, through
+the city gate and beyond, along the river road which led to
+Antwerp. No one spoke to them. Doubtless they were supposed to
+belong to some one of the fleeing families, and it was at least
+comforting to the children to be near people of whom they were
+not afraid. But Jan and Marie could not keep pace with the swift-
+moving crowd of refugees. They trudged along the highway at their
+best speed, only to find themselves straggling farther and
+farther behind.
+
+They were half a mile or more beyond the city gate when they
+overtook a queer little old woman who was plodding steadily along
+wheeling a wheelbarrow, in front of her. She evidently did not
+belong among the refugees, for she was making no effort to keep up
+with them. She had bright, twinkling black eyes, and snow-white
+hair tucked under a snow-white cap. Her face was as brown as a
+nut and full of wrinkles, but it shone with such kindness and
+good-will that, when Jan and Marie had taken one look at her,
+they could not help walking along by her side.
+
+"Maybe she has seen Mother," whispered Marie to Jan. "Let's ask
+her!"
+
+The little old woman smiled down at them as they joined her.
+"You'll have to hurry, my dears, or you won't keep up with your
+folks," she said kindly.
+
+"They aren't our folks," said Jan.
+
+"They aren't?" said the little old woman, stopping short. "Then
+where are your folks?"
+
+"We haven't any, not just now," said Jan. "You see our father is
+a soldier, and our mother, oh, have you seen our mother? She's
+lost!"
+
+The little old woman gave them a quick, pitying glance. "Lost, is
+she?" she said. "Well, now, I can't just be sure whether I've
+seen her or not, not knowing what she looks like, but I wouldn't
+say I haven't. Lots of folks have passed this way. How did she
+get lost?" She sat down on the edge of the barrow and drew the
+children to her side. "Come, now," she said, "tell Granny all
+about it! I've seen more trouble than any one you ever saw in all
+your life before, and I'm not a mite afraid of it either."
+
+Comforted already, the children poured forth their story.
+
+"You poor little lambs!" she cried, when they had finished, "and
+you haven't had a bite to eat since yesterday! Mercy on us! You
+can never find your mother on an empty stomach!" She rose from
+the wheelbarrow, as she spoke, and trundled it swiftly from the
+road to the bank of the river, a short distance away. Here, in a
+sheltered nook, hidden from the highway by a group of willows,
+she stopped. "We'll camp right here, and I'll get you a dinner
+fit for a king or a duke, at the very least," she said cheerily.
+"Look what I have in my wheelbarrow!" She took a basket from the
+top of it as she spoke.
+
+Fidel was already looking in, with his tail standing straight out
+behind, his ears pointed forward, and the hairs bristling on the
+back of his neck. There, on some clean white sand in the bottom
+of the wheelbarrow, wriggled a fine fat eel!
+
+"Now I know why I didn't sell that eel," cried Granny. "There's
+always a reason for everything, you see, my darlings."
+
+She seized the eel with a firm, well-sanded hand as she spoke,
+and before could spell your name backwards, she had skinned and
+dressed it, and had given the remnants to poor hungry Fidel.
+"Now, my boy," she said gayly to Jan as she worked, "you get
+together some twigs and dead leaves, and you, Big Eyes," she
+added to Marie, "find some stones by the river, and we'll soon
+have such a stove as you never saw before, and a fire in it, and
+a bit of fried eel, to fill your hungry stomachs."
+
+Immensely cheered, the children flew on these errands. Then Marie
+had a bright thought. "We have some potatoes in our bundle," she
+said.
+
+"Well, now," cried the little old woman, "wouldn't you think they
+had just followed up that eel on purpose? We'll put them to roast
+in the ashes. I always carry a pan and a bit of fat and some
+matches about with me when I take my eels to market," she
+explained as she whisked these things out of the basket, "and it
+often happens that I cook myself a bite to eat on my way home,
+especially if I'm late. You see, I live a long way from here,
+just across the river from Boom, and I'm getting lazy in my old
+age. Early every morning I walk to Malines with my barrow full of
+fine eels, and sell them to the people of the town. That's how I
+happen to be so rich!"
+
+"Are you rich?" asked Marie wonderingly.
+
+She had brought the stones from the river, and now she untied her
+bundle and took out the potatoes. Jan had already heaped a little
+mound of sticks and twigs near by, and soon the potatoes were
+cooking in the ashes, and a most appetizing smell of frying eel
+filled the air.
+
+"Am I rich?" repeated the old woman. She looked surprised that
+any one could ask such a question. "Of course I'm rich. Haven't I
+got two eyes in my head, and a tongue, too, and it's lucky,
+indeed, that it's that way about, for if I had but one eye and
+two tongues, you see for yourself how much less handy that would
+be! And I've two legs as good as any one's, and two hands to help
+myself with! The Kaiser himself has no more legs and arms than I,
+and I doubt if he can use them half as well. Neither has he a
+stomach the more! And as for his heart" she looked cautiously
+around as she spoke "his heart, I'll be bound, is not half so
+good as mine! If it were, he cold not find it in it to do all the
+cruel things he's doing here. I 'm sure of that."
+
+For a moment the cheerfulness of her face clouded over; but she
+saw the shadow reflected in the faces of Jan and Marie, and at
+once spoke more gayly. "Bless you, yes, I'm rich," she went on;
+"and so are you! You've got all the things that I have and more,
+too, for you legs and arms are young, and you have a mother to
+look for. Not every one has that, you may depend! And one of
+these days you'll find her. Make no doubt of that."
+
+"If we don't, she'll surely find us, anyway," said Jan. "She said
+she would!"
+
+"Indeed and she will," said the old woman. "Even the Germans
+couldn't stop her; so what matter is it, if you both have to look
+a bit first? It will only make it the better when you find each
+other again."
+
+When the potatoes were done, the little old woman raked them out
+of the ashes with a stick, broke them open, sprinkled a bit of
+salt on them from the wonderful basket, and then handed one to
+each of the children, wrapped in a plantain leaf, so they should
+not burn their fingers. A piece of the eel was served to them in
+the same way, and Granny beamed with satisfaction as she watched
+her famished guests.
+
+"Aren't you going to eat, too?" asked Marie with her mouth full.
+
+"Bless you, yes," said Granny. "Every chance I get. You just
+watch me!" She made a great show of taking a piece of the eel as
+she spoke, but if any one had been watching carefully, they would
+have her slyly put it back again into the pan, and the children
+never knew that they ate her share and their own, too.
+
+When they had eaten every scrap of the eel, and Fidel had
+finished the bones, the little old woman rose briskly from the
+bank, washed her pan in the river, packed it in her basket again,
+and led the way up the path to the highway once more. Although
+they found the road still filled with the flying refugees, the
+world had grown suddenly brighter to Jan and Marie. They had
+found a friend and they were fed.
+
+"Now, you come along home with your Granny," said the little old
+woman as they reached the Antwerp road and turned northward, "for
+I live in a little house by the river right on the way to
+wherever you want to go!"
+
+
+IX
+
+OFF FOR ANTWERP
+
+OFF FOR ANTWERP
+
+For several days the children stayed with the little old woman in
+her tiny cottage on the edge of the river. Each morning they
+crossed the bridge and stationed themselves by the Antwerp road
+to watch the swarm of sad-faced Belgians as they hurried through
+Boom on their way to the frontier and to safety in Holland. Each
+day they hoped that before the sun went down they should see
+their mother among the hurrying multitudes, but each day brought
+a fresh disappointment, and each night the little old woman
+comforted them with fresh hope for the morrow.
+
+"You see, my darlings," said she, "it may take a long time and
+you may have to go a long way first, but I feel in my bones that
+you will find her at last. And of course, if you do, every step
+you take is a step toward her, no matter how far round you go."
+
+Jan and Marie believed every word that Granny said. How could
+they help it when she had been so good to them! Her courage and
+faith seemed to make an isle of safety about her where the
+children rested in perfect trust. They saw that neither guns nor
+Germans nor any other terror could frighten Granny. In the midst
+of a thousand alarms she calmly went her accustomed way, and
+every one who met her was the better for a glimpse of the brave
+little brown face under its snowy cap. Early each morning she
+rose with the larks, covered the bottom of her barrow with clean
+white sand, and placed in it the live eels which had been caught
+for her and brought to the door by small boys who lived in the
+neighborhood. Then, when she had wakened the Twins, and the three
+had had their breakfast together, away she would trudge over the
+long, dusty road to Malines, wheeling the barrow. with its
+squirming freight in front of her.
+
+Jan and Marie helped her all they could. They washed the dishes
+and swept the floor of the tiny cottage and made everything tidy
+and clean before they went to take up their stand beside the
+Antwerp road. When the shadows grew long in the afternoon, how
+glad they were to see the sturdy little figure come trudging home
+again! Then they would run to meet her, and Jan would take the
+wheelbarrow from her tired hands and wheel it for her over the
+bridge to the little cottage under the willow trees on the other
+side of the river.
+
+Then Marie's work was to clean the barrow, while Jan pulled weeds
+in the tiny garden back of the house, and Granny got supper
+ready. Supper-time was the best of all, for every pleasant
+evening they ate at a little table out of doors under the willow
+trees.
+
+One evening, when supper had been cleared away, they sat there
+together, with Fidel beside them, while Granny told a wonderful
+tale about the King of the Eels who lived in a crystal palace at
+the bottom of the river.
+
+"You can't quite see the palace," she said, "because, when you
+look right down into it, the water seems muddy. But sometimes,
+when it is still, you can see the Upside-Down Country where the
+King of the Eels lives. There the trees all grow with their heads
+down and the sky is 'way, 'way below the trees. You see the sky
+might as well be down as up for the eels. They aren't like us,
+just obliged to crawl around on the ground without ever being
+able to go up or down at all. The up-above sky belongs to the
+birds and the down-below sky belongs to the fishes and eels. And
+I am not sure but one is just as nice as the other."
+
+Marie and Jan went to the river, and, getting down on their hands
+and knees, looked into the water.
+
+"We can't see a thing!" they cried to Granny.
+
+"You aren't looking the right way," she answered. "Look across it
+toward the sunset."
+
+"Oh! Oh!" cried Marie, clasping her hands; "I see it! I see the
+down-below sky, and it is all red and gold!"
+
+"I told you so," replied Granny triumphantly. "Lots of folks
+can't see a thing in the river but the mud, when, if you look at
+it the right way, there is a whole lovely world in it. Now, the
+palace of the King of the Eels is right over in that direction
+where the color is the reddest. He is very fond of red, is the
+King of the Eels. His throne is all made of rubies, and he makes
+the Queen tie red bows on the tails of all the little eels."
+
+Jan and Marie were still looking with all their eyes across the
+still water toward the sunset and trying to see the crystal
+palace of the eels, when suddenly from behind them there came a
+loud "Hee-haw, hee-haw." They jumped, and Granny jumped, too, and
+they all looked around to see where the sound came from. There,
+coming slowly toward them along the tow-path on the river-bank,
+was an old brown mule. She was pulling a low, green river-boat by
+a towline, and a small boy, not much bigger than Jan, was driving
+her. On the deck of the boat there was a little cabin with white
+curtains in the tiny windows and two red geraniums in pots
+standing on the sills. From a clothesline hitched to the rigging
+there fluttered a row of little shirts, and seated on a box near
+by there was a fat, friendly looking woman with two small
+children playing by her side. The father of the family was busy
+with the tiller.
+
+"There come the De Smets, as sure as you live!" cried Granny,
+rising from the wheelbarrow, where she had been sitting. "I
+certainly am glad to see them." And she started at once down the
+river to meet the boat, with Jan and Marie and Fidel all
+following.
+
+"Ship ahoy!" she cried gayly as the boat drew near. The boy who
+was driving the mule grinned shyly. The woman on deck lifted her
+eyes from her sewing, smiled, and waved her hand at Granny, while
+the two little children ran to the edge of the boat; and held out
+their arms to her.
+
+"Here we are again, war or no war!" cried Mother De Smet, as the
+boat came alongside. Father De Smet left the tiller and threw a
+rope ashore. "Whoa!" cried the boy driving the mule. The mule
+stopped with the greatest willingness, the boy caught the rope
+and lifted the great loop over a strong post on the river-bank,
+and the "Old Woman" for that was the name of the boat was in
+port.
+
+Soon a gangplank was slipped from the boat to the little wooden
+steps on the bank, and Mother De Smet, with a squirming baby
+under each arm, came ashore. "I do like to get out on dry land
+and shake my legs a bit now and then," she said cheerfully as she
+greeted Granny. "On the boat I just sit still and grow fat!"
+
+"I shake my legs for a matter of ten miles every day," laughed
+Granny. "That's how I keep my figure!"
+
+Mother De Smet set the babies down on the grass, where they
+immediately began to tumble about like a pair of puppies, and she
+and Granny talked together, while the Twins went to watch the
+work of Father De Smet and the boy, whose name was Joseph.
+
+"I don't know whatever the country is coming to," said Mother De
+Smet to Granny. "The Germans are everywhere, and they are taking
+everything that they can lay their hands on. I doubt if we ever
+get our cargo safe to Antwerp this time. We've come for a load of
+potatoes, but I am very much afraid it is going to be our last
+trip for some time. The country looks quiet enough as you see it
+from the boat, but the things that are happening in it would
+chill your blood."
+
+"Yes," sighed Granny; "if I would let it, my old heart would
+break over the sights that I see every day on my way to Malines.
+But a broken heart won't get you anywhere. Maybe a stout heart
+will."
+
+"Who are the children you have with you?" asked Mother De Smet.
+
+Then Granny told her how she had found Jan and Marie, and all the
+rest of the sad story. Mother De Smet wiped her eyes and blew her
+nose very hard as she listened.
+
+"I wouldn't let them wait any longer by the Antwerp road,
+anyway," she said when Granny had finished. "There is no use in
+the world in looking for their mother to come that way. She was
+probably driven over the border long ago. You just leave them
+with me to-morrow while you go to town. 'Twill cheer them up a
+bit to play with Joseph and the babies."
+
+"Well, now," said Granny, "if that isn't just like your good
+heart!"
+
+And that is how it happened that, when she trudged off with her
+barrow the next morning, the Twins ran down to the boat and spent
+the day rolling on the grass with the babies, and helping Father
+De Smet and Joseph to load the boat with bags of potatoes which
+had been brought to the dock in the night by neighboring farmers.
+
+When Granny came trundling her barrow home in the late afternoon,
+she found the children and their new friends already on the best
+of terms; and that night, after the Twins were in bed, she went
+aboard the "Old Woman" and talked for a long time with Father and
+Mother De Smet. No one will ever know just what they said to each
+other, but it must be that they talked about the Twins, for when
+the children awoke the next morning, they found Granny standing
+beside their bed with their clothes all nicely washed and ironed
+in her hands.
+
+"I'm not going to town this morning with my eels," she said as
+she popped them out of bed. "I'm going to stay at home and see
+you off on your journey!" She did not tell them that things had
+grown so terrible in Malines that even she felt it wise to stay
+away.
+
+"Our journey!" cried the Twins in astonishment. "What journey?"
+
+"To Antwerp," cried Granny. "Now, you never thought a chance like
+that would come to you, I'm sure, but some people are born lucky!
+You see the De Smets start back today, and they are willing to
+take you along with them!"
+
+"But we don't want to leave you, dear, dear Granny!" cried the
+Twins, throwing their arms about her neck.
+
+"And I don't want you to go, either, my lambs," said Granny;
+"but, you see, there are lots of things to think of. In the first
+place, of course you want to go on hunting for your mother. It
+may be she has gone over the border; for the Germans are already
+in trenches near Antwerp, and our army is nearer still to Antwerp
+and in trenches, too. There they stay, Father De Smet says, for
+all the world, like two tigers, lying ready to spring at each
+other's throats. He says Antwerp is so strongly fortified that
+the Germans can never take it, and so it is a better place to be
+in than here. The De Smets will see that you are left in safe
+hands, and I'm sure your mother would want you to go." The
+children considered this for a moment in silence.
+
+At last Jan said, "Do you think Father De Smet would let me help
+drive the mule?"
+
+"I haven't a doubt of it," said Granny.
+
+"But what about Fidel, our dear Fidel?" cried Marie.
+
+"I tell you what I'll do;" said Granny. "I'll take care of Fidel
+for you! You shall leave him here with me until you come back
+again! You see, I really need good company, and since I can't
+have you, I know you would be glad to have Fidel stay here to
+protect me. Then you'll always know just where he is."
+
+She hurried the children into their clothes as she talked, gave
+them a good breakfast, and before they had time to think much
+about what was happening to them, they had said good-bye to
+Fidel, who had to be shut in the cottage to keep him from
+following the boat, and were safely aboard the "Old Woman" and
+slowly moving away down the river. They stood in the stern of the
+boat, listening to Fidel's wild barks, and waving their hands,
+until Granny's kind face was a mere round speck in the distance.
+
+
+X
+
+ON THE TOW-PATH
+
+ON THE TOW-PATH
+
+When they could no longer see Granny, nor hear Fidel, the
+children sat down on a coil of rope behind the cabin and felt
+very miserable indeed. Marie was just turning up the corner of
+her apron to wipe her eyes, and Jan was looking at nothing at all
+and winking very hard, when good Mother De Smet, came by with a
+baby waddling along on each side of her. She gave the two dismal
+little faces a quick glance and then said kindly:
+
+"Jan, you run and see if you can't help Father with the tiller,
+and, Marie, would you mind playing with the babies while I put on
+the soup-kettle and fix the greens for dinner? They are beginning
+to climb everywhere now, and I am afraid they will fall overboard
+if somebody doesn't watch them every minute!"
+
+Jan clattered at once across the deck to Father De Smet, and
+Marie gladly followed his wife to the open space in front of the
+cabin where the babies had room to roll about. Half an hour
+later, when Mother De Smet went back to get some potatoes for the
+soup, she found Jan proudly steering the boat by himself.
+
+"Oh, my soul!" she cried in astonishment. "What a clever boy you
+must be to learn so quickly to handle the tiller. Where is Father
+De Smet?"
+
+"Here!" boomed a loud voice behind her, and Father De Smet's head
+appeared above a barrel on the other side of the deck. "I'm
+trying to make the 'Old Woman' look as if she had no cargo
+aboard. If the Germans see these potatoes, they'll never let us
+get them to Antwerp," he shouted.
+
+"Sh-h-h! You mustn't talk so loud," whispered Mother De Smet.
+"You roar like a foghorn on a dark night. The Germans won't have
+any trouble in finding out about the potatoes if you shout the
+news all over the landscape."
+
+Father De Smet looked out over the quiet Belgian fields.
+
+"There's nobody about that I can see," he said, "but I'll roar
+more gently next time."
+
+There was a bend in the river just at this point, and Jan,
+looking fearfully about to see if he could see any Germans, for
+an instant forgot all about the tiller. There was a jerk on the
+tow-rope and a bump as the nose of the "Old Woman " ran into the
+river-bank. Netteke, the mule, came to a sudden stop, and Mother
+De Smet sat down equally suddenly on a coil of rope. Her potatoes
+spilled over the deck, while a wail from the front of the boat
+announced that one of the babies had bumped, too. Mother De Smet
+picked herself up and ran to see what was the matter with the
+baby, while Father De Smet seized a long pole and hurried
+forward. Joseph left the mule to browse upon the grass beside the
+tow-path and ran back to the boat. His father threw him a pole
+which was kept for such emergencies, and they both pushed. Joseph
+pushed on the boat and his father pushed against the river-bank.
+Meanwhile poor Jan stood wretchedly by the tiller knowing that
+his carelessness had caused the trouble, yet not knowing what to
+do to help.
+
+"Never mind, son," said Mother De Smet kindly, when she came back
+for her potatoes and saw his downcast face. "It isn't the first
+time the 'Old Woman' has stuck her nose in the mud, and with
+older people than you at the tiller, too! We'll soon have her off
+again and no harm done."
+
+The boat gave a little lurch toward the middle of the stream.
+
+"Look alive there, Mate!" sang out Father De Smet. "Hard aport
+with the tiller! Head her out into the stream!"
+
+Joseph flung his pole to his father and rushed back to Netteke,
+pulled her patient nose out of a delicious bunch of thistles and
+started her up the tow-path. Jan sprang to the tiller, and soon
+the "Old Woman" was once more gliding smoothly over the quiet
+water toward Antwerp.
+
+When Father De Smet came back to the stern of the boat, Jan
+expected a scolding, but perhaps it seemed to the good-natured
+skipper that Jan had troubles enough already, for he only said
+mildly, "Stick to your job, son, whatever it is," and went on
+covering his potatoes with empty boxes and pieces of sailcloth.
+Jan paid such strict attention to the tiller after that that he
+did not even forget when Father De Smet pointed out a burning
+farmhouse a mile or so from the river and said grimly, "The
+Germans are amusing themselves again."
+
+For the most part, however, the countryside seemed so quiet and
+peaceful that it was hard to believe that such dreadful things
+were going on all about them. While Father De Smet's eyes, under
+their bushy brows, kept close watch in every direction, he said
+little about his fears and went on his way exactly as he had done
+before the invasion.
+
+It was quite early in the morning when they left Boom, and by ten
+o'clock Joseph was tired of trudging along beside Netteke. He
+hailed his father.
+
+"May I come aboard now?" he shouted.
+
+Father De Smet looked at Jan.
+
+"Would you like to drive the mule awhile?" he asked.
+
+"Oh, wouldn't I!" cried Jan.
+
+"Have you ever driven a mule before?" Father De Smet asked again.
+
+"Not a mule, exactly," Jail replied, "but I drove old Pier up
+from the field with a load of wheat all by myself. Mother sat on
+the load."
+
+"Come along!" shouted Father De Smet to Joseph, and in a moment
+the gangplank was out and Jan and Joseph had changed places.
+
+"May I go, too?" asked Marie timidly of Father De Smet as he was
+about to draw in the plank. "The babies are both asleep and I
+have nothing to do."
+
+Father De Smet took a careful look in every direction. It was
+level, open country all about them, dotted here and there with
+farmhouses, and in the distance the spire of a village church
+rose above the clustering houses and pointed to the sky.
+
+"Yes, yes, child. Go ahead," said Father De Smet. "Only don't get
+too near Netteke's hind legs. She doesn't know you very well and
+sometimes she forgets her manners."
+
+Marie skipped over the gangplank and ran along the tow-path to
+Jan, who already had taken up Netteke's reins and was waiting for
+the signal to start. Joseph took his place at the tiller, and
+again the "Old Woman" moved slowly down the stream.
+
+For some time Jan and Marie plodded along with Netteke. At first
+they thought it good fun, but by and by, as the sun grew hot,
+driving a mule on a tow-path did not seem quite so pleasant a
+task as they had thought it would be.
+
+"I'm tired of this," said Jan at last to Marie. "That mule is so
+slow that I have to sight her by something to be sure that she is
+moving at all! I've been measuring by that farmhouse across the
+river for a long time, and she hasn't crawled up to it yet! I
+shouldn't wonder if she'd go to sleep some day and fall into the
+river and never wake up! Why, I am almost asleep myself."
+
+"She'll wake up fast enough when it's time to eat, and so will
+you," said Marie, with profound wisdom.
+
+"Let 's see if we can't make her go a little faster, anyway,"
+said Jan, ignoring Marie's remark. "I know what I'll do," he went
+on, chuckling; "I'll get some burrs and stick them in her tail,
+and then every time she slaps the flies off she'll make herself
+go faster."
+
+Marie seized Jan's arm.
+
+"You'll do nothing of the kind!" she cried. "Father De Smet told
+me especially to keep away from Netteke's hind legs."
+
+"Pooh!" said Jan; "he didn't tell me that. I'm not afraid of any
+mule alive. I guess if I can harness a horse and drive home a
+load of grain from the field, there isn't much I can't do with a
+mule!" To prove his words he shouted "U - U" at Netteke and slapped
+her flank with a long branch of willow.
+
+Now, Netteke was a proud mule and she wasn't used to being
+slapped. Father De Smet knew her ways, and knew also that her
+steady, even, slow pace was better in the long run than to
+attempt to force a livelier gait, and Netteke was well aware of
+what was expected of her. She resented being interfered with.
+Instead of going forward at greater speed, she put her four feet
+together, laid back her ears, gave a loud "hee-haw!" and stopped
+stock-still.
+
+"U - U!" shouted Jan. In vain! Netteke would not move. Marie held a
+handful of fresh grass just out of reach of her mouth. But
+Netteke was really offended. She made no effort to get it. She
+simply stayed where she was. Father De Smet stuck his head over
+the side of the boat.
+
+"What is the matter?" he shouted.
+
+"Oh, dear!" said Jan to Marie. "I hoped he wouldn't notice that
+the boat wasn't moving."
+
+"Netteke has stopped. She won't go at all. I think she's run
+down!" Marie called back.
+
+"Try coaxing her," cried the skipper. "Give her something to eat.
+Hold it in front of her nose."
+
+"I have," answered Marie, "but she won't even look at it."
+
+"Then it's no use," said Father De Smet mournfully. "She's balked
+and that is all there is to it. We'll just have to wait until she
+is ready to go again. When she has made up her mind she is as
+difficult to persuade as a setting hen."
+
+Mother De Smet's head appeared beside her husband's over the boat-
+rail.
+
+"Oh, dear!" said she; "I hoped we should get to the other side of
+the line before dark, but if Netteke's set, she's set, and we
+must just make the best of it. It's lucky it's dinner-time. We'll
+eat, and maybe by the time we are through she'll be willing to
+start." Father De Smet tossed a bucket on to the grass.
+
+"Give her a good drink," he said, "and come aboard yourselves."
+
+Jan filled the bucket from the river and set it down before
+Netteke, but she was in no mood for blandishments. She kept her
+ears back and would not touch the water.
+
+"All right, then, Crosspatch," said Jan. Leaving the pail in
+front of her, he went back to the boat. The gangplank was put
+out, and he and Marie went on board. They found dinner ready in
+the tiny cabin, and because it was so small and stuffy, and there
+were too many of them, anyway, to get into it comfortably, they
+each took a bowl of soup as Mother De Smet handed it to them and
+sat down on the deck in front of the cabin to eat it. It was not
+until the middle of the afternoon that Netteke forgot her
+injuries, consented to eat and drink, and indicated her
+willingness to move on toward Antwerp.
+
+
+XI
+
+THE ATTACK
+
+THE ATTACK
+
+Joseph and his father were both on the tow-path when at last
+Netteke decided to move. As she set her ears forward and took the
+first step, Father De Smet heaved a sigh of relief.
+
+"Now, why couldn't you have done that long ago, you addlepated
+old fool," he said mildly to Netteke. "You have made no end of
+trouble for us, and gained nothing for yourself! Now I am afraid
+we shan't get beyond the German lines before dark. We may even
+have to spend the night in dangerous territory, and all because
+you're just as mulish as, as a mule," he finished helplessly.
+
+Joseph laughed. "Can't you think of anything mulisher than a
+mule?" he said.
+
+"There isn't a thing," answered his father.
+
+"Well," answered Joseph, "there are a whole lot of other things
+beside balky mules in this world that I wish had never been made.
+There are spiders, and rats, and Germans. They are all pests. I
+don't see why they were ever born."
+
+Father De Smet became serious at once.
+
+"Son," he said sternly, "don't ever let me hear you say such a
+thing again. There are spiders, and rats, and balky mules, and
+Germans, and it doesn't do a bit of good to waste words fussing
+because they are here. The thing to do is to deal with them!"
+
+Father De Smet was so much in earnest that he boomed these words
+out in quite a loud voice. Joseph seized his hand.
+
+"Hush!" he whispered.
+
+Father De Smet looked up. There, standing right in front of them
+in the tow-path, was a German soldier!
+
+"Halt!" shouted the soldier.
+
+But Netteke was now just as much bent upon going as she had been
+before upon standing still. She paid no attention whatever to the
+command, but walked stolidly along the tow-path directly toward
+the soldier.
+
+"Halt!" cried the soldier again.
+
+But Netteke had had no military training, and she simply kept on.
+In one more step she would have come down upon the soldier's
+toes, if he had not moved aside just in time. He was very angry.
+
+"Why didn't you stop your miserable old mule when I told you to?"
+he said to Father De Smet.
+
+"It's a balky mule," replied Father De Smet mildly, "and very
+obstinate."
+
+"Indeed!" sneered the soldier; "then, I suppose you have named
+him Albert after your pig-headed King!"
+
+"No," answered Father De Smet, "I think too much of my King to
+name my mule after him."
+
+"Oh, ho!" said the German; "then perhaps you have named him for
+the Kaiser!"
+
+Netteke had marched steadily along during this conversation, and
+they were now past the soldier.
+
+"No," Father De Smet called back, "I didn't name her after the
+Kaiser. I think too much of my mule!"
+
+The soldier shook his fist after them. "I'll make you pay well
+for your impudence!" he shouted. "You and I will meet again!"
+
+"Very likely," muttered Father De Smet under his breath. He was
+now more than ever anxious to get beyond the German lines before
+dark, but as the afternoon passed it became certain that they
+would not be able to do it. The shadows grew longer and longer as
+Netteke plodded slowly along, and at last Mother De Smet called
+to her husband over the boatside.
+
+"I think we shall have to stop soon and feed the mule or she will
+be too tired to get us across the line at all. I believe we
+should save time by stopping for supper. Besides, I want to send
+over there," she pointed to a farmhouse not a great distance
+from the river, "and get some milk and eggs."
+
+"Very well," said her husband; "we'll stop under that bunch of
+willows."
+
+The bunch of willows beside the river which he pointed out proved
+to be a pleasant, sheltered spot, with grassy banks sloping down
+to the water. A turn in the river enabled them to draw the "Old
+Woman" up into their shadows, and because the trees were green
+and the boat was green, the reflections in the water were also
+green, and for this reason the boat seemed very well hidden from
+view.
+
+"I don't believe we shall be noticed here," said Father De Smet.
+
+"It's hot on the boat. It would be nice to take the babies ashore
+while we eat," said Mother De Smet, running out the gangplank. "I
+believe we'll have supper on the grass. You hurry along and get
+the milk and eggs, and I'll cook some onions while you are gone."
+
+Jan and Marie ran over the plank at once, and Mother De Smet soon
+followed with the babies. Then, while Marie watched them, she and
+Jan brought out the onions and a pan, and soon the air was heavy
+with the smell of frying onions. Joseph and Jan slipped the
+bridle over Netteke's collar and allowed her to eat the rich
+green grass at the river's edge. When Father De Smet returned,
+supper was nearly ready. He sniffed appreciatively as he appeared
+under the trees.
+
+"Smells good," he said as he held out the milk and eggs toward
+his wife.
+
+"Sie haben recht!" (You are right!), said a loud voice right
+behind him!
+
+Father De Smet was so startled that he dropped the eggs. He
+whirled about, and there stood the German soldier who had told
+Netteke to halt. With him were six other men.
+
+"Ha! I told you we should meet again!" shouted the soldier to
+Father De Smet. "And it was certainly thoughtful of you to
+provide for our entertainment. Comrades, fall to!"
+
+The onions were still cooking over a little blaze of twigs aid
+dry leaves, but Mother De Smet was no longer tending them. The
+instant she heard the gruff voice she had dropped her spoon, and,
+seizing a baby under each arm, had fled up the gangplank on to
+the boat. Marie followed at top speed. Father De Smet faced the
+intruders.
+
+"What do you want here?" he said.
+
+"Some supper first," said the soldier gayly, helping himself to
+some onions and passing the pan to his friends. "Then, perhaps, a
+few supplies for our brave army. There is no hurry. After supper
+will do; but first we'll drink a health to the Kaiser, and since
+you are host here, you shall propose it!"
+
+He pointed to the pail of milk which Father De Smet still held.
+
+"Now," he shouted, "lift your stein and say, 'Hoch der Kaiser.'"
+
+Father De Smet looked them in the face and said not a word.
+Meanwhile Jan and Joseph, to Mother De Smet's great alarm, had
+not followed her, on to the boat. Instead they had flown to
+Netteke, who was partly hidden from the group by a bunch of young
+willows near the water's edge, and with great speed and presence
+of mind had slipped her bridle over her head and gently started
+her up the tow-path.
+
+"Oh," murmured Joseph, "suppose she should balk!" But Netteke had
+done her balking for the day, and, having been refreshed by her
+luncheon of green grass, she was ready to move on. The. river had
+now quite a current, which helped them, and while the soldiers
+were still having their joke with Father De Smet the boat moved
+quietly out of sight. As she felt it move, Mother De Smet lifted
+her head over the boat's rail behind which she and the children
+were hiding, and raised the end of the gangplank so that it would
+make no noise by scraping along the ground. She was beside
+herself with anxiety. If she screamed or said anything to the
+boys, the attention of the soldiers would immediately be directed
+toward them. Yet if they should by any miracle succeed in getting
+away, there was her husband left alone to face seven enemies. She
+wrung her hands.
+
+"Maybe they will stop to eat the onions," she groaned to herself.
+She held to the gangplank and murmured prayers to all the saints
+she knew, while Jan and Joseph trotted briskly along the tow-
+path, and Netteke, assisted by the current, made better speed
+than she had at any time during the day.
+
+Meanwhile his captors were busy with Father De Smet. "Come! Drink
+to the Kaiser!" shouted the first soldier, "or we'll feed you to
+the fishes! We want our supper, and you delay us." Still Father
+De Smet said nothing. "We'll give you just until I count ten,"
+said the soldier, pointing his gun at him, "and if by that time
+you have not found your tongue"
+
+But he did not finish the sentence. From an unexpected quarter a
+shot rang out. It struck the pail of milk and dashed it over the
+German and over Father De Smet too. Another shot followed, and
+the right arm of the soldier fell helpless to his side. One of
+his companions gave a howl and fell to the ground. Still no one
+appeared at whom the Germans could direct their fire. "Snipers!"
+shouted the soldiers, instantly lowering their guns, but before
+they could even fire in the direction of the unseen enemy, there
+was such a patter of bullets about them that they turned and
+fled.
+
+Father De Smet fled, too. He leaped over the frying-pan and tore
+down the river-bank after the boat. As he overtook it, Mother De
+Smet ran out the gang. plank. "Boys!" shouted Father De Smet.
+"Get aboard! Get aboard!" Joseph and Jan instantly stopped the
+mule and, dropping the reins, raced up the gangplank, almost
+before the end of it rested safely on the ground. Father De Smet
+snatched up the reins. On went the boat at Netteke's best speed,
+which seemed no better than a snail's pace to the fleeing family.
+Sounds of the skirmish continued to reach their ears, even when
+they had gone some distance down the river, and it was not until
+twilight had deepened into dusk, and they were hidden in its
+shadows, that they dared hope the danger was passed. It was after
+ten o'clock at night when the "Old Woman" at last approached the
+twinkling lights of Antwerp, and they knew that, for the time
+being at least, they were safe.
+
+They wore now beyond the German lines in country still held by
+the Belgians. Here, in a suburb of the city, Father De Smet
+decided to dock for the night. A distant clock struck eleven as
+the hungry but thankful family gathered upon the deck of the "Old
+Woman" to eat a meager supper of bread and cheese with only the
+moon to light their repast. Not until they had finished did
+Father De Smet tell them all that had happened to him during the
+few terrible moments when he was in the hands of the enemy.
+
+"They overreached themselves," he said. "They meant to amuse
+themselves by prolonging my misery, and they lingered just a bit
+too long." He turned to Jan and Joseph. "You were brave boys! If
+you had not started the boat when you did, it is quite likely
+they might have got me, after all, and the potatoes too. I am
+proud of you."
+
+"But, Father," cried Joseph, "who could have fired those shots?
+We didn't see a soul."
+
+"Neither did I," answered his father; "and neither did the
+Germans for that matter. There was no one in sight."
+
+"Oh," cried Mother De Smet, "it was as if the good God himself
+intervened to save you!"
+
+"As I figure it out," said Father De Smet, "we must have stopped
+very near the trenches, and our own men must have seen the
+Germans attack us. My German friend had evidently been following
+us up, meaning to get everything we had and me too. But the smell
+of the onions was too much for him! If he hadn't been greedy, he
+might have carried out his plan, but he wanted our potatoes and
+our supper too; and so he got neither!" he chuckled. "And neither
+did the Kaiser get a toast from me! Instead, he got a salute from
+the Belgians." He crossed himself reverently. "Thank God for our
+soldiers," he said, and Mother De Smet, weeping softly, murmured
+a devout "Amen."
+
+Little did Jan and Marie dream as they listened, that this
+blessing rested upon their own father, and that he had been one
+of the Belgian soldiers, who, firing from the trenches, had
+delivered them from the hands of their enemies. Their father,
+hidden away, in the earth like a fox, as little dreamed that he
+had helped to save his own children from a terrible fate.
+
+
+XII
+
+THE ZEPPELIN RAID
+
+THE ZEPPELIN RAID
+
+When the Twins awoke, early the next morning, they found that
+Father and Mother De Smet had been stirring much earlier still,
+and that the "Old Woman" was already slipping quietly along among
+the docks of Antwerp. To their immense surprise they were being
+towed, not by Netteke, but by a very small and puffy steam tug.
+They were further astonished to find that Netteke herself was on
+board the "Old Woman."
+
+"How in the world did you get the mule on to the boat! " gasped
+Jan, when he saw her.
+
+"Led her right up the gangplank just like folks," answered Father
+De Smet. "I couldn't leave her behind and I wanted to get to the
+Antwerp docks as soon as possible. This was the quickest way. You
+see," he went on, "I don't know where I shall be going next, but
+I know it won't be up the Dyle, so I am going to keep Netteke
+right where I can use her any minute."
+
+There was no time for further questions, for Father De Smet had
+to devote his attention to the tiller. Soon they were safely in
+dock and Father De Smet was unloading his potatoes and selling
+them to the market-men, who swarmed about the boats to buy the
+produce which had been brought in from the country.
+
+"There!" he said with a sigh of relief as he delivered the last
+of his cargo to a purchaser late in the afternoon; "that load is
+safe from the Germans, anyway."
+
+"How did you find things up the Dyle?" asked the merchant who had
+bought the potatoes.
+
+Father De Smet shook his head.
+
+"Couldn't well be worse," he said. "I'm not going to risk another
+trip. The Germans are taking everything they can lay their hands
+on, and are destroying what they can't seize. I nearly lost this
+load, and my life into the bargain. If it hadn't been that,
+without knowing it, we stopped so near the Belgian line of
+trenches that they could fire on the German foragers who tried to
+take our cargo, I shouldn't have been here to tell this tale."
+
+"God only knows what will become of Belgium if this state of
+things continues," groaned the merchant. "Food must come from
+somewhere or the people will starve."
+
+"True enough," answered Father De Smet. "I believe I'll try a
+trip north through the back channels of the Scheldt and see what
+I can pick up."
+
+"Don't give up, anyway," urged the merchant. "If you fellows go
+back on us, I don't know what we shall do. We depend on you to
+bring supplies from somewhere, and if you can't get them in
+Belgium, you'll have to go up into Holland."
+
+Mother De Smet leaned over the boatrail and spoke to the two men
+who were standing on the dock.
+
+"You'd better believe we'll not give up," she said. "We don't
+knbw the meaning of the word."
+
+"Well," said the merchant sadly, "maybe you don't, but there are
+others who do. It takes a stout heart to have faith that God
+hasn't forgotten Belgium these days."
+
+"It's easy enough to have faith when things are going right,"
+said Mother De Smet, "but to have faith when things are going
+wrong isn't so easy." Then she remembered Granny. "But a sick
+heart won't get you anywhere, and maybe a stout one will," she
+finished.
+
+"That's a good word," said the merchant.
+
+"It was said by as good a woman as treads shoe-leather," answered
+Mother De Smet.
+
+"You are safe while you stay in Antwerp, anyway," said the
+merchant as he turned to say good-bye. "Our forts are the
+strongest in the world and the Germans will never be able to take
+them. There's comfort in that for us." Then he spoke to his
+horses and turned away with his load.
+
+"Let us stay right here to-night," said Mother De Smet to her
+husband as he came on board the boat. "We are all in need of rest
+after yesterday, and in Antwerp we can get a good night's sleep.
+Besides, it is so late in the day that we couldn't get out of
+town before dark if we tried."
+
+Following this plan, the whole family went to bed at dusk, but
+they were not destined to enjoy the quiet sleep they longed for.
+The night was warm, and the cabin small, so Father De Smet and
+Joseph, as well as the Twins, spread bedding on the deck and went
+to sleep looking up at the stars.
+
+They had slept for some hours when they were suddenly aroused by
+the sound of a terrific explosion. Instantly they sprang to their
+feet, wide awake, and Mother De Smet came rushing from the cabin
+with the babies screaming in her arms.
+
+"What is it now? What is it?" she cried.
+
+"Look! Look!" cried Jan.
+
+He pointed to the sky. There, blazing with light, like a great
+misshapen moon, was a giant airship moving swiftly over the city.
+As it sailed along, streams of fire fell from it, and immediately
+there followed the terrible thunder of bursting bombs. When it
+passed out of sight, it seemed as if the voice of the city itself
+must rise in anguish at the terrible destruction left in its
+wake.
+
+Just what that destruction was, Father De Smet did not wish to
+see. "This is a good place to get away from," he said to the
+frightened group cowering on the deck of the "Old Woman" after
+the bright terror had disappeared. When morning came he lost no
+time in making the best speed he could away from the doomed city
+of Antwerp which they had thought so safe.
+
+When they had left the city behind them and the boat was slowly
+making its way through the quiet back channels of the Scheldt the
+world once more seemed really peaceful to the wandering children.
+Their way lay over still waters and beside green pastures, and as
+they had no communication with the stricken regions of Belgium,
+they had no news of the progress of the war, until, some days
+later, the boat docked at Rotterdam, and it became necessary to
+decide what should be done next. There they learned that they had
+barely escaped the siege of Antwerp, which had begun with the
+Zeppelin raid.
+
+Father De Smet was now obliged to confront the problem of what to
+do with his own family, for, since Antwerp was now in the hands
+of the enemy, he could no longer earn his living in the old way.
+Under these changed conditions he could not take care of Jan and
+Marie, so one sad day they said good-bye to good Mother De Smet,
+to Joseph and the babies, and went with Father De Smet into the
+city of Rotterdam.
+
+They found that these streets were also full of Belgian refugees,
+and here, too, they watched for their mother. In order to keep up
+her courage, Marie had often to feel of the locket and to say to
+herself: "She will find us. She will find us." And Jan, Jan had
+many times to say to himself, "I am now a man and must be brave,"
+or he would have cried in despair.
+
+But help was nearer than they supposed. Already England had begun
+to organize for the relief of the Belgian refugees, and it was in
+the office of the British Consul at Rotterdam that Father De Smet
+finally took leave of Jan and Marie. The Consul took them that
+night to his own home, and, after a careful record had been made
+of their names and their parents' names and all the facts about
+them, they were next day placed upon a ship, in company with many
+other homeless Belgians, and sent across the North Sea to
+England.
+
+
+XIII
+
+REFUGEES
+
+REFUGEES
+
+If I were to tell you all the strange new sights that Jan and
+Marie saw, and all the things they did in England, it would make
+this book so big you could not hold it up to read it, so I must
+skip all about the great house in the southern part of England
+where they next found themselves. This house was the great
+country place of a very rich man, and when the war broke out he
+had given it to be used as a shelter for homeless Belgians. There
+were the most wonderful woods and parks on the estate, and miles
+of beautiful drives. There were great gardens and stables and
+hothouses; and the house was much bigger and finer than any Jan
+and Marie had ever seen in all their lives. It seemed to them as
+if they had suddenly been changed into a prince and princess by
+some fairy wand. They were not alone in all this splendor; other
+lost little Belgian children were there, and there were lost
+parents, too, and it seemed such a pity that the lost parents and
+the lost children should not be the very ones that belonged
+together, so that every one could be happy once more. However,
+bad as it was, it was so much better than anything they had known
+since the dreadful first night of the alarm that Jan and Marie
+became almost happy again.
+
+At night they and the other homeless children slept in little
+white cots set all in a row in a great picture gallery. They were
+given new clothes, for by this time even their best ones were
+quite worn out, and every day they had plenty of good plain food
+to eat. Every day more Belgians came, and still more, until not
+only the big house, but the stable and outbuildings were all
+running-over full of homeless people. One day, after they had
+been in this place for two or three weeks, Jan and Marie were
+called into the room where sat the sweet-faced lady whose home
+they were in. It was like an office, and there were several other
+persons there with her.
+
+The sweet-faced lady spoke to them. "Jan and Marie," she said,
+"how would you like to go to live with a dear lady in America who
+would love you, and take care of you, so you need never be lonely
+and sad again?"
+
+"But our mother!" gasped Marie, bursting into tears. "We have not
+found her!"
+
+"You will not lose her any more by going to America," said the
+lady, "for, you see, we shall know all about you here, and if
+your mother comes, we shall be able to tell her just where to
+find you. Meanwhile you will be safe and well cared for, far away
+from all the dreadful things that are happening here."
+
+"It is so far away!" sobbed Marie.
+
+Jan said nothing; he was busy swallowing lumps in his own throat.
+
+"You see, dears," the lady said gently, "you can be together
+there, for this woman has no children of her own, and is willing
+to take both of you. That does not often happen, and, besides,
+she is a Belgian; I know you will find a good home with her."
+
+"You're sure we could be together?" asked Jan.
+
+"Yes," said the lady.
+
+"Because," said Jan, "Mother said I must take care of Marie."
+
+"And she said she'd find us again if she had to swim the sea,"
+said Marie, feeling of her locket and smiling through her tears.
+
+"She won't have to swim," said the lady. "We will see to that! If
+she comes here, she shall go for you in a fine big ship, and so
+that's all settled." She kissed their woebegone little faces.
+"You are going to start to-morrow," she said. "The good captain
+of the ship has promised to take care of you, so you will not be
+afraid, and I know you will be good children."
+
+It seemed like a month to Jan and Marie, but it was really only
+seven days later that they stood on the deck of the good ship
+Caspian, as it steamed proudly into the wonderful harbor of New
+York. It was dusk, and already the lights of the city sparkled
+like a sky full of stars dropped down to earth. High above the
+other stars shone the great torch of "Liberty enlightening the
+World." "Oh," gasped Marie, as she gazed, "New York must be as
+big as heaven. Do you suppose that is an angel holding a candle
+to light us in?"
+
+Just then the captain came to find them, and a few minutes later
+they walked with him down the gangplank, right into a pair of
+outstretched arms. The arms belonged to Madame Dujardin, their
+new mother. "I should have known them the moment I looked at
+them, even if they hadn't been with the captain," she cried to
+her husband, who stood smiling by her side. "Poor darlings, your
+troubles are all over now! Just as soon as Captain Nichols says
+you may, you shall come with us, and oh, I have so many things to
+show you in your new home!"
+
+She drew them with her to a quieter part of the dock, while her
+husband talked with the captain, and then, when they had bidden
+him good-bye, they were bundled into a waiting motor car and
+whirled away through miles of brilliantly lighted streets and
+over a wonderful bridge, and on and on, until they came to green
+lawns, and houses set among trees and shrubs, and it seemed to
+the children as if they must have reached the very end of the
+world. At last the car stopped before a house standing some
+distance back from the street in a large yard, and the children
+followed their new friends through the bright doorway of their
+house.
+
+Madame Dujardin helped them take off their things in the pleasant
+hallway, where an open fire was burning, and later, when they
+were washed and ready, she led the way to a cheerful dining room,
+where there was a pretty table set for four. There were flowers
+on the table, and they had chicken for supper, and, after that,
+ice cream! Jan and Marie had never tasted ice cream before in
+their whole lives! They thought they should like America very
+much.
+
+After supper their new mother took them upstairs and showed them
+two little rooms with a bathroom between. One room was all pink
+and white with a dear little white bed in it, and she said to
+Marie, "This is your room, my dear." The other room was all in
+blue and white with another dear little white bed in it, and she
+said to Jan, "This is your room, my dear." And there were clean
+white night-gowns on the beds, and little wrappers with gay
+flowered slippers, just waiting for Jan and Marie to put them on.
+
+"Oh, I believe it is heaven!" cried Marie, as she looked about
+the pretty room. Then she touched Madame Dujardin's sleeve
+timidly. "Is it all true?" she said. "Shan't we wake up and have
+to go somewhere else pretty soon?"
+
+"No, dear," said Madame Dujardin gently. "You are going to stay
+right here now and be happy."
+
+"It will be a very nice place for Mother to find us in," said
+Jan. "She will come pretty soon now, I should think."
+
+"I hope she may," said Madame Dujardid, tears twinkling in her
+eyes.
+
+"I'm sure she will," said Marie. "You see everybody is looking
+for her. There's Granny, and Mother and Father De Smet, and
+Joseph, and the people in Rotterdam, and the people in England,
+too; and then, besides, Mother is looking for herself, of
+course!"
+
+"She said she would surely find us even if she had to swim the
+sea," added Jan.
+
+
+XIV
+
+THE MOST WONDERFUL PART
+
+THE MOST WONDERFUL PART
+
+And now comes the most wonderful part of the story!
+
+Madame Dujardin prepared a bath and said to Marie: "You may have
+the first turn in the tub because you're a girl. In America the
+girls have the best of everything", she laughed at Jan, as she
+spoke. "I will help you undress. Jan, you may get ready and wait
+for your turn in your own room." She unbuttoned Marie's dress,
+slipped off her clothes, and held up the gay little wrapper for
+her to put her arms into, and just then she noticed the locket on
+her neck. "We'll take this off, too," she said, beginning to
+unclasp it.
+
+But Marie clung	to it with both hands. "No, no," she cried.
+"Mother said I was never, never to take it off. It has her
+picture in it."
+
+"May I see it, dear?" asked Madame Dujardin. "I should like to
+know what your mother looks like." Marie nestled close to her,
+and Madame Dujardin opened the locket.
+
+For a moment she gazed at the picture in complete silence, her
+eyes staring at it like two blue lights. Then she burst into a
+wild fit of weeping, and cried out, "Leonie! Leonie! It is not
+possible! My own sister's children!" She clasped the bewildered
+Marie in her arms and kissed her over and over again. She ran to
+the door and brought in Jan and kissed him; and then she called
+her husband. When he came in and saw her with her arms around
+both children at once, holding the locket in her hands, and
+laughing and crying both together, he, too, was bewildered.
+
+"What in the world is the matter, Julie?" he cried.
+
+For answer, she	pointed to the face in the locket. "Leonie!
+Leonie!" she cried. "They are my own sister's children! Surely
+the hand of God is in this!"
+
+Her husband looked at the locket. "So it is! So it is!" he said
+in astonishment. "I thought at first you had gone crazy,"
+
+"See!" cried his wife. "It's her wedding-gown, and afterward she
+gave me those very beads she has around her neck! I have them
+yet!" She rushed from the room and returned in a moment with the
+beads in her hand.
+
+Meanwhile Jan and Marie had stood still, too astonished to do
+more than stare from one amazed and excited face to the other, as
+their new father and mother gazed, first at them, and then at the
+locket, and last at the beads, scarcely daring to believe the
+testimony of their own eyes. "To think," cried Madame Dujardin at
+last, "that I should not have known! But there are many Van Hoves
+in Belgium, and it never occurred to me that they could be my own
+flesh and blood. It is years since I have heard from Leonie. In
+fact, I hardly knew she had any children, our lives have been so
+different. Oh, it is all my fault," she cried, weeping again.
+"But if I have neglected her, I will make it up to her children!
+It may be, oh, it is just possible that she is still alive, and
+that she may yet write to me after all these years! Sorrow
+sometimes bridges wide streams!"
+
+Then she turned more quietly to the children.
+
+"You see, dears," she said, "I left Belgium many years ago, and
+came with your uncle to this country. We were poor when we came,
+but your uncle has prospered as one can in America. At first
+Leonie and I wrote regularly to each other. Then she grew more
+and more busy, and we seemed to have no ties in common, so that
+at last we lost sight of each other altogether." She opened her
+arms to Marie and Jan as she spoke, and held them for some time
+in a close embrace.
+
+Finally she lifted her head and laughed. "This will never do!"
+she exclaimed. "You must have your baths, even if you are my own
+dear niece and nephew. The water must be perfectly cold by this
+time!"
+
+She went into the bathroom, turned on more hot water, and popped
+Marie into the tub. In half an hour both children had said their
+prayers and were tucked away for the night in their clean white
+beds.
+
+Wonderful days followed for Jan and Marie. They began to go to
+school; they had pretty clothes and many toys, and began to make
+friends among the little American children of the neighborhood.
+But in the midst of these new joys they did not forget their
+mother, still looking for them, or their father, now fighting, as
+they supposed, in the cruel trenches of Belgium. But at last
+there came a day when Aunt Julie received a letter with a foreign
+postmark. She opened it, with trembling fingers, and when she saw
+that it began, "My dear Sister Julie," she wept so for joy that
+she could not see to read it, and her husband had to read it for
+her.
+
+This was the letter:
+
+	You will perhaps wonder at hearing from me after the long
+	years of silence that have passed, but I have never
+	doubted the goodness of your heart, my Julie, nor your
+	love for your poor Leonie, even though our paths in life
+	have led such different ways. And now I must tell you of
+	the sorrows which have broken my heart. Georges was
+	obliged to go into the army at a moment's notice when the
+	war broke out. A few days later the Germans swept through
+	Meer, driving the people before them like chaff before
+	the wind. As our house was on the edge of the village, I
+	was the first to see them coming. I hid the children in
+	the vegetable cellar, but before I could get to a hiding-
+	place for myself, they swept over the town, driving every
+	man, woman, and child before them. To turn back then was
+	impossible, and it was only after weeks of hardship and
+	danger that I at last succeeded in struggling through the
+	territory occu pied by Germans to the empty city of
+	Malines, and the deserted village where we had been so
+	happy! On the kitchen door of our home I found a paper
+	pinned. On it was printed, "Dear Mother - We have gone to
+	Malines to find you - Jan and Marie." Since then I have
+	searched every place where there seemed any possibility
+	of my finding my dear children, but no trace of them can
+	I find. Then, through friends in Antwerp, I learned that
+	Georges had been wounded and was in a hospital there and
+	I went at once to find him. He had lost an arm in the
+	fighting before Antwerp and was removed to Holland after
+	the siege began. Here we have remained since, still
+	hoping God would hear our prayers and give us news of our
+	dear children. It would even be a comfort to know surely
+	of their death, and if I could know that they were alive
+	and well, I think I should die of joy. Georges can fight
+	no more; our home is lost; we are beggars until this war
+	is over and our country once more restored to us. I am
+	now at work in a factory, earning what keeps body and
+	soul together. Georges must soon leave the hospital,
+	then, God knows what may befall us. How I wish we had
+	been wise like you, my Julie, and your Paul, and that we
+	had gone, with you to America years ago! I might then
+	have my children with me in comfort. If you get this
+	letter, write to your heart-broken
+
+LEONIE.
+
+It was not a letter that went back that very day; it was a
+cablegram, and it said:
+
+	Jan and Marie are safe with me. Am sending money with
+	this to the Bank of Holland, for your passage to America.
+	Come at once. 		JULIE.
+
+People do not die of joy, or I am sure that Father and Mother Van
+Hove would never have survived the reading of that message.
+Instead it put such new strength and energy into their weary
+souls and bodies that two days later they were on their way to
+England, and a week later still they stood on the deck of the
+Arabia as it steamed into New York Harbor. Jan and Marie with
+Uncle Paul and Aunt Julie met them at the dock, and there are
+very few meetings, this side of heaven, like the reunion of those
+six persons on that day.
+
+The story of that first evening together can hardly be told.
+First. Father and Mother Van Hove listened to Jan and Marie as
+they told of their wanderings with Fidel, of the little old eel
+woman, of Father and Mother De Smet, of the attack by Germans and
+of the friends they found in Holland and in England; and when
+everybody had cried a good deal about that, Father Van Hove told
+what had happened to him; then Mother Van Hove told of her long
+and perilous search for her children; and there were more tears
+of thankfulness and joy, until it seemed as if their hearts were
+filled to the brim and running over. But when, last of all, Uncle
+Paul told of the plans which he and Aunt Julie had made for the
+family, they found there was room in their hearts for still more
+joy.
+
+"I have a farm in the country," said Uncle Paul. "It is not very
+far from New York. There is a good house on it; it is already
+stocked. I need a farmer to take care of the place for me, and
+trustworthy help is hard to get here. If you will manage it for
+me, Brother Georges, I shall have no further anxiety about it,
+and shall expect to enjoy the fruits of it as I have never yet
+been able to do. Leonie shall make some of her good butter for
+our city table, and the children" here he pinched Marie's cheek,
+now round and rosy once more "the children shall pick berries
+and help on the farm all summer. In winter they can come back to
+Uncle Paul and Aunt Julie and go to school here, for they are our
+children now, as well as yours."
+
+Father Van Hove rose, stretched out his one hand, and, grasping
+Uncle Paul's, tried to thank him, but his voice failed.
+
+"Don't say a word, old man," said Uncle Paul, clasping Father Van
+Hove's hand with both of his. "All the world owes a debt to
+Belgium which it can never pay. Her courage and devotion have
+saved the rest of us from the miseries she has borne so bravely.
+If you got your just deserts, you'd get much more than I can ever
+give you."
+
+In the end it all came about just as Uncle Paul had said, and the
+Van Hoves are living in comfort and happiness on that farm this
+very day.
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+SUGGESTIONS TO TEACHERS
+
+American children who have been giving their pennies to help take
+care of little Belgian children will find this new "Twins" book
+one of the most appealing that Mrs. Perkins has ever written. The
+author's Preface states the sources of her inspiration. As usual,
+her story will be found sympathetic in spirit and accurate as to
+facts.
+
+At the present day books are constantly issuing from the press
+which will assist teachers in planning their own preparation for
+the class reading of this book; for example, Griffis's: "Belgium:
+The Land of Art" and Gibson's: "A Journal from our Legation in
+Belgium". Books issued in past years which tell other stories of
+exile or emigration, or which deal with European countries
+neighboring Belgium, also have their place in the teacher's
+reading. We may suggest Griffis's: "The Pilgrims in Their Three
+Homes" and "Brave Little Holland", and Davis's "History of
+Medieval and Modern Europe" (sections 238, 266, and the account
+of the present war). A file of the National Geographic Magazine,
+accessible in most public libraries, will be found to contain
+many articles and illustrations which will be invaluable in this
+connection. Picture postcards, also, will supply a wealth of
+appropriate subjects. Children should be encouraged to bring
+material of this sort to school.
+
+Once the historical and geographical background has been
+sketched, the teacher may safely trust the children to get the
+most out of the story. Fifth grade pupils can read it without
+preparation. Pupils in the fourth grade should first read it in a
+study period in order to work out the pronunciation of the more
+difficult words.
+
+The possibilities for dramatization will be immediately apparent.
+In this, the author's illustrations will, as in all the "Twins"
+books, furnish hints as to scenes and action. They may likewise
+be used as the subjects of both oral and written compositions--
+each pupil selecting the picture most interesting to him, and
+retelling its story in his own words.
+
+The illustrations may be used, also, as models for the pupils'
+sketching; their simple style renders them especially suitable
+for this use.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg Etext of The Belgian Twins, by Lucy Fitch Perkins
+
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