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diff --git a/old/bgtwn10.txt b/old/bgtwn10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..eeb1d9a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/bgtwn10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3147 @@ +Project Gutenberg Etext of The Belgian Twins, by Lucy Fitch Perkins +#3 in our series by Lucy Fitch Perkins + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the laws for your country before redistributing these files!!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. + +Please do not remove this. + +This should be the first thing seen when anyone opens the book. +Do not change or edit it without written permission. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.06/12/01*END* +[Portions of this header are copyright (C) 2001 by Michael S. Hart +and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] +[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales +of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or +software or any other related product without express permission.] + + + + + +Produced for Project Gutenberg by Lynn Hill +hill_lynn@hotmail.com + +This PG project is dedicated to retired teacher Betty Sheridan, +who generously loaned the book to be produced for PG. + + + + +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 + diff --git a/old/bgtwn10.zip b/old/bgtwn10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5fba7bf --- /dev/null +++ b/old/bgtwn10.zip |