Part 2 (1/2)

Mother Van Hove lifted her two children high in her arms for him to see, but Father Van Hove could only smile a brave good-bye as he marched swiftly past.

”No tears, my children!” cried the priest; ”let them see no tears! Send them away with a smile!” And, standing on the edge of the sidewalk, he made the sign of the cross and raised his hand in blessing, as the troops went by.

For a time Mother Van Hove and the children ran along the sidewalk, trying to keep pace with the soldiers, but their quick strides were too much for the Twins, and it was not long before Marie said, breathlessly, ”My legs are too short! I can't run so fast!”

”I can't too!” gasped Jan. Mother Van Hove stopped short at once, and the three stood still, hand in hand, and watched the soldiers until they turned a corner and disappeared from sight through the Antwerp gate of the city.

They were quite alone, for the other women and children had gone no farther than the armory, and were already on their homeward way to Meer. Now for the first time Mother Van Hove gave way to grief, and Jan and Marie wept with her; but it was only for a moment. Then she wiped her eyes, and the Twins' too, on her ap.r.o.n, and said firmly: ”Come, my lambs! Tears will not bring him back! We must go home now as fast as we can. There is need there for all that we can do! You must be the man of the house now, my Janke, and help me take your father's place on the farm; and Marie must be our little house-mother. We must be as brave as soldiers, even though we cannot fight.”

”I think I could be braver if I had some breakfast,” sobbed Janke.

Mother Van Hove struck her hands together in dismay. ”I never once thought of food!” she cried, ”and I haven't a red cent with me! We cannot buy a breakfast! We must just go hungry until we get home! But soldiers must often go hungry, my little ones. We must be as brave as they. Come, now. I will be the captain! Forward march!”

Jan and Marie stiffened their little backs, as she gave the word of command, and, shoulder to shoulder, they marched down the street toward the city gate to the martial refrain, ”Le Roi, la loi, la liberte,”

which Mother Van Hove hummed for them under her breath.

It was a long way back to the little farm-house, and when at last the three weary pilgrims reached it, they were met by an indignant chorus of protests from all the creatures which had been left behind. Bel was lowing at the pasture bars, the pig was squealing angrily in her pen, the rooster had crowed himself hoa.r.s.e, and Fidel, patient Fidel, was sitting on guard at the back door.

Mother Van Hove flew into the kitchen the moment she reached the house, and in two minutes Jan and Marie were seated before a breakfast of bread and milk. Then she fed the pig, let out the hens, and gave Fidel a bone which she had saved for him from the soup. Last of all, she milked the cow, and when this was done, and she had had a cup of coffee herself, the clock in the steeple struck twelve.

Even Mother Van Hove's strength was not equal to work in the harvest-field that day, but she stowed the load of wheat which had been brought home the night before in the barn, and, after the ch.o.r.es were done at night, she and the Twins went straight to bed and slept as only the very weary can, until the sun streamed into their windows in the morning.

V

DOING A MAN'S WORK

When Jan and Marie awoke, their mother's bed was empty. ”She's gone to milk the cow,” cried Marie. ”Come, Jan, we will surprise her! When she comes back from the pasture, we will have breakfast all ready.”

”You can,” said Jan, as he struggled into his clothes, and twisted himself nearly in two trying to do up the b.u.t.tons in the back; ”you can, but I must do a man's work! I will go out and feed the pig and catch old Pier and hitch him to the cart,” he said importantly. ”I must finish the wheat harvest to-day.”

”Ho!” said Marie. ”You will spill the pig-feed all over yourself! You are such a messy boy!”

”I guess I can do it just as well as you can make coffee,” said Jan with spirit. ”You've never made coffee in your life!”

”I've watched Mother do it lots of times,” said Marie. ”I'm sure I can do it just the same way.”

”All right, let's see you do it, then,” said Jan. And he strode out of the room with his hands in his pockets, taking as long steps as his short legs would permit.

When she was dressed and washed, Marie ran to the pump and filled the kettle. Then she stirred the embers of the fire in the kitchen and put on fresh coal. She set the kettle on to boil and only slopped a little water on her ap.r.o.n in doing so. Then she put the dishes on the table.

Meanwhile she heard no sound from Jan. She went to the kitchen door and looked out. Jan had already let out the fowls, and was just in the act of feeding the pig. He had climbed up on the fence around the pig-pen, and by dint of great effort had succeeded in lifting the heavy pail of feed to the top of it. He was now trying to let it down on the other side and pour the contents into the trough, but the pig was greedy, and the moment the pail came within reach, she stuck her nose and her fore feet into it. This added weight was too much for poor Jan; down went the pail with a crash into the trough, and Jan himself tumbled suddenly forward, his feet flew out behind, and he was left hanging head down, like a jack knife, over the fence!

It was just at this moment that Marie came to the door, and when she saw Jan balancing on the fence and kicking out wildly with his feet, she screamed with laughter.

Jan was screaming, too, but with pain and indignation. ”Come here and pick me off this fence!” he roared. ”It's cutting me in two! Oh, Mother! Mother!”

Marie ran to the pigpen as fast as, she could go. She s.n.a.t.c.hed an old box by the stable as she ran, and, placing it against the fence, seized one of Jan's feet, which were still waving wildly in the air, and planted it firmly on the box.

”Oh! Oh!” laughed Marie, as Jan reached the ground once more. ”If you could only have seen yourself, Jan! You would have laughed, too!