XL
LOOKING FOR WORK
Luxuries unfit us for returning to hardships easily endured before. Thewooden runners squeaked more than ever. It was as much as Hans could doto get on with the clumsy old things; still he did not regret that hehad parted with his beautiful skates--but resolutely pushed back theboyish trouble that he had not been able to keep them just a littlelonger, at least until after the race.
"Mother surely will not be angry with me," he thought, "for selling themwithout her leave. She has had care enough already. It will be full timeto speak of it when I take home the money."
Hans went up and down the streets of Amsterdam that day, looking forwork. He succeeded in earning a few stivers by assisting a man who wasdriving a train of loaded mules into the city, but he could not securesteady employment anywhere. He would have been glad to obtain asituation as porter or errand-boy, but though he passed, on his way,many a loitering, shuffling urchin, laden with bundles, there was noplace for him. Some shopkeepers had just supplied themselves; othersneeded a trimmer, more lightly-built fellow (they meant better dressed,but did not choose to say so); others told him to call again in a monthor two, when the canals would probably be broken up; and many shooktheir heads at him without saying a word.
At the factories he met with no better luck. It seemed to him that inthose great buildings, turning out respectively such tremendousquantities of woolen, cotton and linen stuffs, such world-renowned dyesand paints, such precious diamonds cut from the rough, such supplies ofmeal, of bricks, of glass and china--that in at least one of these, astrong-armed boy, able and eager to work, could find something to do.But no--nearly the same answer met him everywhere, "no need of morehands just now. If he had called before Nicholas' day they might havegiven him a job, as they were hurried then; but at present they had moreboys than they needed." Hans wished they could see, just for a moment,his mother and Gretel. He did not know how the anxiety of both lookedout from his eyes, and how more than once, the gruffest denials wereuttered with an uncomfortable consciousness that the lad ought not to beturned away. Certain fathers, when they went home that night, spoke morekindly than usual to their own youngsters, from memory of a frank, youngface saddened at their words; and before morning one man actuallyresolved that if the Broek boy came in again he would instruct his headman Blankert to set him at something.
But Hans knew nothing of all this. Toward sundown he started on hisreturn to Broek, uncertain whether the strange, choking sensation in histhroat arose from discouragement or resolution. There was certainly onemore chance. Mynheer van Holp might have returned by this time. MasterPeter it was reported had gone to Haarlem the night before, to attend tosomething connected with the great Skating Race. Still Hans would go andtry.
Fortunately, Peter had returned early that morning. He was at home whenHans reached there, and was just about starting for the Brinker cottage.
"Ah, Hans!" he cried as the weary boy approached the door. "You are thevery one I wished to see. Come in and warm yourself."
After tugging at his well-worn hat, which always _would_ stick to hishead when he was embarrassed, Hans knelt down--not by way of making anew style of oriental salute--nor to worship the goddess of cleanlinesswho presided there--but because his heavy shoes would have filled thesoul of a Broek housewife with horror. When their owner stepped softlyinto the house, they were left outside to act as sentinels until hisreturn.
* * * * *
Hans left the Van Holp mansion with a lightened heart. Peter had broughtword from Haarlem that young Brinker was to commence working upon thesummer-house doors immediately. There was a comfortable workshop on theplace and it was to be at his service until the carving was done.
Peter did not tell Hans that he had skated all the way to Haarlem forthe purpose of arranging this plan with Mynheer van Holp. It was enoughfor him to see the glad, eager look rise on young Brinker's face.
"I _think_ I can do it," said Hans, "though I have never learned thetrade."
"I am _sure_ you can," responded Peter, heartily. "You will find everytool you require in the workshop. It is nearly hidden yonder by thatwall of twigs. In summer when the hedge is green, one cannot see theshop from here at all. How is your father to-day?"
"Better, mynheer--he improves every hour."
"It is the most astonishing thing I ever heard of. That gruff old doctoris a great fellow after all."
"Ah! mynheer," said Hans, warmly, "he is more than great. He is good.But for the meester's kind heart and great skill my poor father wouldyet be in the dark. I think, mynheer," he added, with kindling eyes,"surgery is the very noblest science in the world!"
Peter shrugged his shoulders. "Very noble it may be, but not quite to mytaste. This Dr. Boekman certainly has skill. As for his heart--defend mefrom such hearts as his!"
"Why do you say so, mynheer?" asked Hans.
Just then a lady slowly entered from an adjoining apartment. It wasMevrouw van Holp arrayed in the grandest of caps, and the longest ofsatin aprons ruffled with lace. She nodded placidly as Hans stepped backfrom the fire bowing as well as he knew how.
Peter at once drew a high-backed oaken chair toward the fire, and thelady seated herself. There was a block of cork on each side of thechimney-place. One of these he placed under his mother's feet.
Hans turned to go.
"Wait a moment, if you please, young man," said the lady. "Iaccidentally overheard you and my son speaking I think of my friend Dr.Boekman. You are right, young man. Dr. Boekman has a very kind heart.You perceive, Peter, we may be quite mistaken in judging of a personsolely by their manners, though a courteous deportment is by no means tobe despised."
"I intended no disrespect, mother," said Peter, "but surely one has noright to go growling and snarling through the world, as they say hedoes."
"They say. Ah, Peter, 'they' means everybody or nobody. Surgeon Boekmanhas had a great sorrow. Many years ago he lost his only child, undervery painful circumstances, a fine lad, except that he was a thought toohasty and high spirited. Before then Gerard Boekman was one of the mostagreeable gentlemen I ever knew."
So saying, Mevrouw van Holp, looking kindly upon the two boys, arose andleft the room with the same dignity with which she had entered.
Peter, only half convinced, muttered something about "the sin ofallowing sorrow to turn all one's honey into gall," as he conducted hisvisitor to the narrow side-door. Before they parted, he advised Hans tokeep himself in good skating order, "for," he added, "now that yourfather is all right, you will be in fine spirits for the race. That willbe the prettiest skating show ever seen in this part of the world.Everybody is talking of it; you are to try for the prize, remember."
"I shall not be in the race, mynheer," said Hans, looking down.
"Not be in the race! Why not indeed?" and immediately Peter's thoughtsswept on a full tide of suspicion toward Carl Schummel.
"Because I cannot, mynheer," answered Hans, as he bent to slip his feetinto his big shoes.
Something in the boy's manner warned Peter that it would be no kindnessto press the matter further. He bade Hans "good-bye," and stoodthoughtfully watching him as he walked away.
In a minute Peter called out:
"Hans Brinker!"
"Yes, mynheer."
"I'll take back all I said about Dr. Boekman."
"Yes, mynheer."
Both were laughing. But Peter's smile changed to a look of puzzledsurprise when he saw Hans kneel down by the canal and put on the woodenskates.
"Very queer," muttered Peter shaking his head as he turned to go intothe house; "why in the world don't the boy wear his new ones?"
Hans Brinker; Or, The Silver Skates Page 43