Hans Brinker; Or, The Silver Skates

by Mary Mapes Dodge

  XXXIII

  GRETEL AND HILDA

  It was recess-hour. At the first stroke of the school-house bell, thecanal seemed to give a tremendous shout, and grow suddenly alive withboys and girls. The sly thing, shining so quietly under the noonday sun,was a kaleidoscope at heart, and only needed a shake from that greatclapper to start it into dazzling changes.

  Dozens of gaily clad children were skating in and out among each other,and all their pent-up merriment of the morning was relieving itself insong and shout and laughter. There was nothing to check the flow offrolic. Not a thought of school-books came out with them into thesunshine. Latin, Arithmetic, Grammar, all were locked up for an hour inthe dingy schoolroom. The teacher might be a noun if he wished, and aproper one at that, but _they_ meant to enjoy themselves. As long as theskating was as perfect as this, it made no difference whether Hollandwere on the North Pole or the Equator; and, as for Philosophy, how couldthey bother themselves about inertia and gravitation and such things,when it was as much as they could do to keep from getting knocked overin the commotion.

  In the height of the fun, one of the children called out:

  "What is that?"

  "What? Where?" cried a dozen voices.

  "Why--don't you see? That dark thing over there by the idiot'scottage."

  "I don't see anything," said one.

  "I do," shouted another, "it's a dog!"

  "Where's any dog?" put in a squeaky voice that we have heardbefore--"It's no such thing--it's a heap of rags."

  "Pooh! Voost," retorted another gruffly, "that's about as near the factas you ever get; it's the goose-girl, Gretel, looking for rats."

  "Well, what of it?" squeaked Voost; "isn't _she_ a bundle of rags, I'dlike to know?"

  "Ha! ha! Pretty good for you, Voost! You'll get a medal for wit yet, ifyou keep on."

  "You'd get something else, if her brother Hans were here. I'll warrantyou would!" said a muffled up little fellow, with a cold in his head.

  As Hans was _not_ there, Voost could afford to scout the insinuation.

  "Who cares for _him_, little sneezer? I'd fight a dozen like him anyday, and you in the bargain."

  "You would! would you? I'd like to catch you at it," and, by way ofproving his words, the sneezer skated off at the top of his speed.

  Just then a general chase after three of the biggest boys of the schoolwas proposed,--and friend and foe, frolicsome as ever, were soon unitedin a common cause.

  Only one of all that happy throng remembered the dark little form by theidiot's cottage. Poor, frightened Gretel! She was not thinking of them,though their merry laughter floated lightly toward her, making her feellike one in a dream.

  How loud the moans were behind the darkened window--What if thosestrange men were really killing her father!

  The thought made her spring to her feet with a cry of horror!

  "Ah! no," she sobbed, sinking upon the frozen mound of earth where shehad been sitting, "mother is there, and Hans. They will care for him.But how pale they were. And even Hans was crying!

  "Why did the cross old meester keep _him_, and send me away," shethought. "I could have clung to the mother and kissed her. That alwaysmakes her stroke my hair and speak gentle, even after she has scoldedme. How quiet it is now! Oh, if the father should die, and Hans, and themother, what _would_ I do?" and Gretel, shivering with cold, buried herface in her arms, and cried as if her heart would break.

  The poor child had been tasked beyond her strength during the past fourdays. Through all, she had been her mother's willing little handmaiden,soothing, helping and cheering the half-widowed woman by day, andwatching and praying beside her all the long night. She knew thatsomething terrible and mysterious was taking place at this moment,something that had been too terrible and mysterious for even kind, goodHans to tell.

  Then new thoughts came. Why had not Hans told her? It was a shame. Itwas _her_ father as well as his. She was no baby. She had once taken asharp knife from the father's hand. She had even drawn him away from themother on that awful night when Hans, big as he was, could not help her.Why then must she be treated like one who could do nothing? Oh, how verystill it was--how bitter, bitter cold! If Annie Bouman had only stayedhome instead of going to Amsterdam it wouldn't be so lonely. How coldher feet were growing--was it the moaning that made her feel as if shewere floating in the air!

  This would not do--the mother might need her help at any moment!

  Rousing herself with an effort, Gretel sat upright, rubbing her eyes andwondering--wondering that the sky was so bright and blue--wondering atthe stillness in the cottage--more than all, at the laughter rising andfalling in the distance.

  Soon she sank down again, the strange medley of thought growing more andmore confused in her bewildered brain.

  What a strange lip the meester had! How the stork's nest upon the roofseemed to rustle and whisper down to her! How bright those knives were,in the leathern case--brighter perhaps than the silver skates. If shehad but worn her new jacket she would not shiver so. The new jacket waspretty--the only pretty thing she had ever worn. God had taken care ofher father so long, He would do it still, if those two men would but goaway. Ah, now the meesters were on the roof, they were clambering to thetop--no--it was her mother and Hans,--or the storks--it was so dark whocould tell? and the mound rocking, swinging in that strange way. Howsweetly the birds were singing. They must be winter birds, for the airwas thick with icicles--not one bird--but twenty. Oh! hear them,mother--wake me, mother, for the race--I am so tired with crying, andcrying----

  A firm hand was laid upon her shoulder.

  "Get up, little girl!" cried a kind voice. "This will not do, for you tolie here and freeze."

  Gretel slowly raised her head. She was so sleepy that it seemed nothingstrange to her that Hilda van Gleck should be leaning over her, lookingwith kind, beautiful eyes into her face. She had often dreamed itbefore.

  But she had never dreamed that Hilda was shaking her roughly, almostdragging her by main force--never dreamed that she heard her saying,"Gretel! Gretel Brinker! you _must_ wake!"

  This was real. Gretel looked up. Still the lovely delicate young ladywas shaking, rubbing, fairly pounding her. It must be a dream. No, therewas the cottage--and the stork's nest, and the meester's coach by thecanal. She could see them now quite plainly. Her hands were tingling,her feet throbbing--Hilda was forcing her to walk.

  At last Gretel began to feel like herself again.

  "I have been asleep," she faltered, rubbing her eyes with both hands andlooking very much ashamed.

  "Yes, indeed, entirely too much asleep," laughed Hilda, whose lips werevery pale, "but you are well enough now--lean upon me, Gretel; there,keep moving--you will soon be warm enough to go by the fire--now let metake you into the cottage."

  "Oh, no! no! no! jufvrouw, not in there! the meester is there. He sentme away!"

  Hilda was puzzled, but she wisely forbore to ask at present for anexplanation. "Very well, Gretel--try to walk faster--I saw you upon themound some time ago; but I thought you were playing--that is right--keepmoving."

  All this time the kind-hearted girl had been forcing Gretel to walk upand down, supporting her with one arm, and, with the other, striving aswell as she could to take off her own warm sacque.

  Suddenly Gretel suspected her intention.

  "Oh, jufvrouw! jufvrouw!" she cried imploringly. "_Please_ never thinkof such a thing as _that_--oh! please keep it on, I am burning all over,jufvrouw! I really am burning--not burning exactly--but pins and needlespricking all over me--oh! jufvrouw, don't."

  The poor child's dismay was so genuine that Hilda hastened to reassureher.

  "Very well, Gretel, move your arms then--so. Why, your cheeks are aspink as roses, already. I think the meester would let you in now--hecertainly would--is your father so very ill?"

  "Ah, jufvrouw," cried Gretel, weeping afresh, "he is dying, I think.There are two meesters in with him at this moment, and the mother hasscarce spoken to-day
. Can you hear him moan, jufvrouw?" she added, withsudden terror; "the air buzzes so I cannot hear. He may be dead! oh, Ido wish I could hear him!"

  Hilda listened. The cottage was very near, but not a sound could beheard.

  Something told her that Gretel was right. She ran to the window.

  "You cannot see there, my lady," sobbed Gretel eagerly; "the mother hasoiled paper hanging inside. But at the other one, in the south end ofthe cottage, you can look in where the paper is torn."

  Hilda in her anxiety ran round, past the corner where the low roof wasfringed with its loosened thatch.

  A sudden thought checked her.

  "It is not right for me to peep into another's house in this way," shesaid to herself--then softly calling to Gretel, she added, in a whisper,"You may look--perhaps he is only sleeping."

  Gretel tried to walk briskly toward the spot, but her limbs weretrembling. Hilda hastened to her support.

  "You are sick, yourself, I fear," she said kindly.

  "No, not sick, jufvrouw--but my heart cries all the time now, even whenmy eyes are as dry as yours--why! Jufvrouw, your eyes are not dry! Areyou crying for _us_! Oh, jufvrouw--if God sees you! Oh! I know fatherwill get better now----" and the little creature, even while reaching tolook through the tiny window, kissed Hilda's hand again and again.

  The sash was sadly patched and broken, a torn piece of paper hunghalf-way down across it. Gretel's face was pressed to the window.

  "Can you see anything?" whispered Hilda at last.

  "Yes--the father lies very still, his head is bandaged and all theireyes are fastened upon him. Oh, jufvrouw!" almost screamed Gretel, asshe started back, and by a quick, dexterous movement shook off her heavywooden shoes, "I _must_ go in to my mother! Will you come with me?"

  "Not now; the bell is ringing. I shall come again soon. Good-bye!"

  Gretel scarce heard the words. She remembered for many a day afterwardthe bright, pitying smile on Hilda's face, as she turned away.