Part 9 (1/2)

And she put her arm round the boy's neck again and looked fondly into his eyes:

”Will you get married, Doorke?”

Doorke shook his head.

”Not even to me?”

And she looked at him with such a roguish smile that the boy felt ashamed. Then, to comfort him, she said:

”Nor I either, Doorke. Do you know what I'm going to do?”

”No, Horieneke.”

”Listen, Doorke, I'll tell you all about it, but promise on your soul not to tell anybody: Bertje, Fonske and all the rest mustn't know.”

Doorke nodded.

”Father wanted me to go into service down there, with all those wicked people. Then I cried for days and days and prayed to Our Lord; and mother told father that I was dying; and then she said that I might ... Try and guess, Doorke!”

Doorke made no attempt to guess. Then she drew him closer to her and whispered:

”Mother said I might stay at home and help her ... and afterwards, when I am grown up ... I shall become a nun, Doorke, in a convent; but first mother must get another baby, a new Horieneke.... And you?”

The boy didn't know.

”And you, Doorke, must learn to be a priest; then you and I will both go to Heaven.”

Behind them, on the road, came a noise and a rush and an outcry so great that the children started up in fright. Look! It was Bertje and all the little brothers in the dog-cart, which was coming back home through the sand. When they saw cousin and Horieneke, they raised a mighty shout of joy and stopped. Bertje stood erect and issued his commands: all the boys must get out; he would remain sitting on the front seat, with Horieneke and Doorke side by side behind him, between two leafy branches, like a bride and bridegroom! Fonske cut two branches from an alder-tree and fastened them to either side of the cart. Then they set out, amid the shouting and cheering of the boys running in front and behind:

”Ready?”

”Ye-e-es!”

The dogs gave an angry jerk forward and the cart went terribly fast and Doorke clutched Horieneke with one hand and with the other warded off the hanging willow-twigs that lashed their faces.

The sun had gone down and a red light was glowing in the west, high up in the tender blue. The air had turned cooler and a cold, clammy damp was falling over the fields, which now lay steaming deadly still in the rising mist that already shrouded the trees in blue and darkened the distances.

At the turn of the road, the children stepped out of the cart and put it away carefully behind the bake-house, tied up the panting dogs and sauntered into the house.

”Father, we've been out with cousin,” said Bertje.

They had to take their coffee and their cakebread-and-b.u.t.ter in a hurry: it was time to put the dogs in, said uncle.

Doorke said they were put in.

Frazie helped her sister on with her things:

”You'll find the looking-gla.s.s hanging in the window, Stanse. I must go and put on another skirt too and come a bit of the way with you.”

The boys were to stay at home; they got the rest of the sweets and were ordered to bed at once. Horieneke was told to take off her best clothes; it was evening and the goats had still to be fed. She went to her little room reluctantly and could have cried because it was all over now and because it was so melancholy in the dark. She felt ashamed when she came down again and glanced askance at Doorke, who would think her so plain in her week-day clothes. The boy looked at her and said nothing; then he jumped into the cart and drove off slowly. Mother with Stanse and father with uncle came walking behind.