The clock began to strike. Sietske seemed to be counting, for at every stroke she raised a finger.
"Five!" she cried. "All my fingers--just look, five! Five o'clock, papa--Tyrant! Hurrah, hurrah!"
Both boys joined in the uproar. It was a quodlibet from "Gaudeamus igitur," "Vive la joie," and "God save the king." Forward, all! Vive la vacance! A bas les tyrans! Revenge! * * *
The children were determined to have their well earned romp; and they had it. Walter rubbed his eyes, and would not believe his ears. It was beyond his comprehension. * * *
"That will do now," said the doctor. "Come, mamma is waiting dinner--and you, too, my boy!"
William took Sietske on his back and Hermann mounted the father. Thus they descended the stairs, Walter bringing up the rear. Lady Macbeth had disappeared, being now crumpled up in Walter's breast-pocket.
Walter was nonplussed. Was this the same man who used the gold pen?--whose coachman wore the furs?
How was it possible? Was it a dream, that he and all the family had looked on this man and simply been overcome by his dignity?
Again the atmosphere of the dining-room was quite different from that of the schoolroom, either before or directly after five.
"Present the young gentleman to your mamma," said the doctor, turning to William.
Doctor Holsma nodded, and the little girl took Walter by the hand and conducted him to a lady who sat at the head of the table preparing the salad.
"Mamma, this is a young gentleman--oh, I must know your name. What is your name?"
"This is Mr. Walter Pieterse, who has come to thank papa, because he--he was sick; and he--the young gentleman is going to stay for dinner, papa?"--the doctor nodded again--"and he's going to stay for dinner, mamma."
Mevrouw Holsma spoke to Walter kindly and offered him a chair. It was necessary, too.
Everything seemed so princely to Walter that he was glad to be seated. Three-fourths of his little figure was hidden under the table. That was something gained. He was amazed at almost everything he saw and heard. He folded his hands.
"Do you want to say a grace, little man?" asked the doctor.
"A good custom. Do you always do that at the table?"
Those children had been taught good manners. Nobody smiled.