Part 9 (1/2)
XII
THE VROUW VAN TWINKLE'S KRULLERS
A Story of Old New York
Clean, snug, and picturesque as a Holland town was our city of New York for some years after it had dropped its juvenile name of New Amsterdam and adopted its present name; but not so suddenly could it change its nature and Dutch ways. Dutch neatness and the Dutch tongue still reigned supreme. Substantial wooden houses turned gable ends of black and yellow Holland bricks to the front, until Pearl Street appeared like a triumphal procession of chess-boards; while no mansion in that then fas.h.i.+onable quarter could boast more big doors and small windows than that of the worthy burgher Van Twinkle, and the little weatherc.o.c.k on the roof was as giddy as any of its neighbors, and as undecided as to which way the wind actually did blow.
An air of festivity pervaded this residence on a certain winter's day in the early part of the eighteenth century; windows were thrown open, and Gretel, the eldest daughter of the family, followed by black Sophy, armed with brooms, mops, and pails, entered that _sanctum sanctorum_, the best parlor, to scrub and scour with unwonted energy; for to-morrow would be that greatest of Knickerbocker holidays, _Nieuw Jaar_, or New Year, when every good Hollander would consider it his duty to call upon his friends and neighbors, and the front door with its great bra.s.s knocker would swing from morning till night to admit the well-wishers of the season.
In the big kitchen also active preparations were going forward. A royal fire blazed in the wide chimney, and the Vrouw Van Twinkle, in short gown and petticoat, was cutting out and boiling those lightest and richest of krullers for which she was famous among the good housewives of the town: real Dutch krullers, brown as nuts, and crisp as pie-crust.
”Out of the way, youngsters!” cried the dame to a boy and girl lounging near to watch the boiling, ”or spattered will you be with the hog's fat.
Take thy sister, Jan, and off with her to the Flatten Barrack. She would enjoy a good sledding this fine day, and that I know.”
”Rather would I go to the skating on the Salt River,” said Jan.
”But that you must not. It I forbid, for very unsafe is it now, thy father did observe only this morning.”
”Foolishness, though, was that, mother,” argued Jan, ”for last night Tunis Vanderbeck from Breucklyn came over on the ice, and told me that firm was it as any rock, and smooth as thy soft, pink cheek.”
”Thou flatterer!” laughed his mother; ”but not so canst thou pull the wool over my eyes; so away with you both to the sledding, and here are two stivers with which to buy New-Year cakes at Peter Clopper's bake-house.” And diving in the patchwork pocket hung at her side, Madam Van Twinkle produced the coins, which sent the children off with smiling faces to the hill at the end of Garden Street, stopping on the way to invest in the sweet New-Year cakes, stamped with a crown and breeches.
Jan made short work of his; but Katrina had scarce begun to nibble her fluted oval when she spied an aged man, with a long gray beard, begging for charity.
”See, Jan,” she cried, ”the poor, miserable old beggar! How cold and hungry he looks!”
”Then to work should he go.”
”But it may be no work he has to do. Ach! the sight of him makes my heart to ache, and help him will I all I can.” So saying, the kind-hearted girl darted to the mendicant's side and slipped her cake into his hand.
”A thousand thanks, little lady!” exclaimed the man, fervently; ”for I am near to starving, or I would not be here; and you are the first who has heeded me to-day.”
He was evidently English; but Katrina cared not for that, and, carried away by her feelings, added a guilder, given her at Christmas, to her gift of the New-Year cake, thereby calling forth a shower of benedictions, although the old fellow seemed strangely nervous meanwhile, glancing in a frightened manner at each pa.s.ser-by. As soon as the little maid's back was turned he slunk into a dark alley and out of sight.
”A silly noodle art thou, Katrina, thus to throw away thy presents,”
said Jan, as they hurried on. But his sister only shook her head, and smiled as though quite satisfied, while her heart beat a happy roundelay all the short December afternoon as she slid on her wooden sled and frolicked with the little Dutch Vans and Vanders on the Flatten-Barrack Hill.
Twilight was falling when the young Van Twinkles wended their way home, to find their bread and b.u.t.termilk ready for them by the kitchen fire, and their father and mother and Gretel gone to a supper of soft waffles and chocolate and a New-Year's-Eve dance at the Van Corlear Bouwerie.
”The best parlor, does it look fine and gay, Sophy?” asked Katrina, as she finished her evening meal.
”Dat it do,” replied the old slave woman; ”for waved am de sand on de floor like white clouds, and de bra.s.s chair-nails s.h.i.+ne jest like little missy's eyes. 'Spect de ole mynheer and his vrouw come down and dance dis night for sure.”
”What mynheer, Sophy?” asked Jan.
”De great mynheer in de portrait--your gran'fader, ob course. Hab you chillens neber heard how on New-Year Eve, when de clock strike twelve, down come all de pictur' folkses to shake hands and wish each oder 'Happy New-Year,' and den, if nuffin disturb 'em, mebbe dey dance in de firelight.”
”Really, Sophy, do they?” asked the little girl.