yhap
the minister will read it to us."

Gretel lifted the big Dutch Bible from its carved shelf. Dr. Boekman,
rather dismayed at being called a minister, coughed and handed the
volume to his assistant.

"Read," he murmured. "These people must be kept quiet or the man will
die yet."

When the chapter was finished, Dame Brinker motioned mysteriously to the
rest by way of telling them that her husband was asleep.

"Now, jufvrouw," said the doctor in a subdued tone as he drew on his
thick woolen mittens, "there must be perfect quiet. You understand. This
is truly a most remarkable case. I shall come again tomorrow. Give
the patient no food today," and, bowing hastily, he left the cottage,
followed by his assistant.

His grand coach was not far away; the driver had kept the horses moving
slowly up and down by the canal nearly all the time the doctor had been
in the cottage.

Hans went out also.

"May God bless you, mynheer!" he said, blushing and trembling. "I can
never repay you, but if--"

"Yes, you can," interrupted the doctor crossly. "You can use your wits
when the patient wakes again. This clacking and sniveling is enough to
kill a well man, let alone one lying on the edge of his grave. If you
want your father to get well, keep 'em quiet."

So saying, Dr. Boekman, without another word, stalked off to meet his
coach, leaving Hans standing there with eyes and mouth wide open.

Hilda was reprimanded severely that day for returning late to school
after recess, and for imperfect recitations.

She had remained near the cottage until she heard Dame Brinker laugh,
until she had heard Hans say, "Here I am, Father!" And then she had gone
back to her lessons. What wonder that she missed them! How could she get
a long string of Latin verbs by heart when her heart did not care a fig
for them but would keep saying to itself, "Oh, I am so glad! I am so
glad!"

Bones and Tongues

Bones are strange things. One would suppose that they knew nothing at
all about school affairs, but they do. Even Jacob Poot's bones, buried
as they were in flesh, were sharp in the matter of study hours.

Early on the morning of his return they ached through and through,
giving Jacob a twinge at every stroke of the school bell, as if to
say, "Stop that clapper! There's trouble in it." After school, on the
contrary, they were quiet and comfortable; in fact, seemed to be taking
a nap among their cushions.

The other boys' bones