XXXVI
A NEW ALARM
When Dr. Boekman called the next day at the Brinker cottage, he couldnot help noticing the cheerful, comfortable aspect of the place. Anatmosphere of happiness breathed upon him as he opened the door. DameBrinker sat complacently knitting beside the bed, her husband wasenjoying a tranquil slumber, and Gretel was noiselessly kneading ryebread on the table in the corner.
The doctor did not remain long. He asked a few simple questions,appeared satisfied with the answers, and after feeling his patient'spulse, said--"Ah, very weak yet, jufvrouw; very weak, indeed. He musthave nourishment. You may begin to feed the patient, ahem! not too much,but what you do give him let it be strong and of the best."
"Black bread we have, mynheer, and porridge," replied Dame Brinker,cheerily; "they have always agreed with him well."
"Tut! tut!" said the doctor frowning, "nothing of the kind. He must havethe juice of fresh meat, white bread, dried and toasted, good Malagawine, and--ahem! The man looks cold--give him more covering, somethinglight and warm. Where is the boy?"
"Hans, mynheer, has gone into Broek to look for work. He will be backsoon. Will the meester please be seated?"
Whether the hard polished stool offered by Dame Brinker did not lookparticularly tempting, or whether the dame herself frightened him,partly because she was a woman, and partly because an anxious,distressed look had suddenly appeared in her face, I cannot say. Certainit is that our eccentric doctor looked hurriedly about him, mutteredsomething about "extraordinary case," bowed, and disappeared, beforeDame Brinker had time to say another word.
Strange that the visit of their good benefactor should have left acloud, yet so it was. Gretel frowned, an anxious childish frown, andkneaded the bread-dough violently, without looking up. Dame Brinkerhurried to her husband's bedside, leaned over him, and fell into silentbut passionate weeping.
In a moment Hans entered.
"Why, mother," he whispered in alarm, "what ails thee? Is the fatherworse?"
She turned her quivering face toward him, making no attempt to concealher distress.
"Yes. He is starving--perishing. The meester said it."
Hans turned pale.
"What does this mean, mother? We must feed him at once. Here, Gretel,give me the porridge."
"Nay!" cried his mother, distractedly, yet without raising her voice,"it may kill him. Our poor fare is too heavy for him. Oh, Hans, he willdie--the father will _die_ if we use him this way. He must have meat,and sweet wine, and a dek-bed. Oh, what shall I do? what shall I do?"she sobbed, wringing her hands. "There is not a stiver in the house."
Gretel pouted; it was the only way she could express sympathy just then;her tears fell one by one into the dough.
"Did the meester say he _must_ have these things, mother?" asked Hans.
"Yes, he did."
"Well, mother, don't cry, _he shall have them_; I shall bring meat andwine before night. Take the cover from my bed. I can sleep in thestraw."
"Yes, Hans; but it is heavy, scant as it is. The meester said he musthave something light and warm. He will perish. Our peat is giving out,Hans. The father has wasted it sorely, throwing it on when I was notlooking, dear man."
"Never mind, mother," whispered Hans, cheerfully. "We can cut down thewillow tree and burn it, if need be; but I'll bring home somethingto-night. There _must_ be work in Amsterdam, though there's none inBroek. Never fear, mother; the worst trouble of all is past. We canbrave anything now that the father is himself again."
"Aye!" sobbed Dame Brinker, hastily drying her eyes, "that is trueindeed."
"Of course it is. Look at him, mother, how softly he sleeps. Do youthink God would let him starve, just after giving him back to us. Why,mother, I'm as _sure_ of getting all the father needs, as if my pocketwas bursting with gold. There, now, don't fret." And hurriedly kissingher, Hans caught up his skates and slipped from the cottage.
Poor Hans! Disappointed in his morning's errand, half sickened with thisnew trouble, he wore a brave look, and tried to whistle as he trampedresolutely off with the firm intention of mending matters.
Want had never before pressed as sorely upon the Brinker family. Theirstock of peat was nearly exhausted, and all the flour in the cottagewas in Gretel's dough. They had scarcely cared to eat during the pastfew days--scarcely realized their condition. Dame Brinker had felt sosure that she and the children could earn money before the worst came,that she had given herself up to the joy of her husband's recovery. Shehad not even told Hans that the few pieces of silver in the old mittenwere quite gone.
Hans reproached himself, now, that he had not hailed the doctor when hesaw him enter his coach and drive rapidly away in the direction ofAmsterdam.
"Perhaps there is some mistake," he thought. "The meester surely wouldhave known that meat and sweet wine were not at our command; and yet thefather looks very weak--he certainly does. I _must_ get work. If Mynheervan Holp were back from Rotterdam I could get plenty to do. But MasterPeter told me to let him know if he could do aught to serve us. I shallgo to him at once. Oh, if it were but summer!"
All this time Hans was hastening toward the canal. Soon his skates wereon, and he was skimming rapidly toward the residence of Mynheer vanHolp.
"The father must have meat and wine at once," he muttered, "but how canI earn the money in time to buy them to-day? There is no other way butto go, as I _promised_, to Master Peter. What would a gift of meat andwine be to him? When the father is once fed, I can rush down toAmsterdam and earn the morrow's supply."
Then came other thoughts--thoughts that made his heart thump heavily andhis cheeks burn with a new shame--"It is _begging_, to say the least.Not one of the Brinkers has ever been a beggar. Shall I be the first?Shall my poor father just coming back into life learn that his familyhave asked for charity--he, always so wise and thrifty? No," cried Hansaloud, "better a thousand times to part with the watch.
"I can at least borrow money on it, in Amsterdam!" he thought, turningaround. "That will be no disgrace. I can find work at once, and get itback again. Nay, perhaps I can even _speak to the father about it_!"
This last thought almost made the lad dance for joy. Why not, indeed,speak to the father? He was a rational being now. "He may wake," thoughtHans, "quite bright and rested--may tell us the watch is of noconsequence, to sell it of course! Hoezza!" and Hans almost flew overthe ice.
A few moments more and the skates were again swinging from his arm. Hewas running toward the cottage.
His mother met him at the door.
"Oh, Hans!" she cried, her face radiant with joy, "the young lady hasbeen here with her maid. She brought everything--meat, jelly, wine andbread--a whole basketful! Then the meester sent a man from town withmore wine, and a fine bed and blankets for the father. Oh! he will getwell now. God bless them!"
"God bless them!" echoed Hans, and for the first time that day, his eyesfilled with tears.
Hans Brinker; Or, The Silver Skates Page 39