The Father's Return
That evening Raff Brinker felt so much better that he insisted
upon sitting up for a while on the rough high-backed chair by the
fire. For a few moments there was quite a commotion in the
little cottage. Hans was all-important on the occasion, for his
father was a heavy man and needed something firm to lean upon. The dame, though none of your fragile ladies, was in such a state of alarm and excitement at the bold step they were taking in lifting him without the meester's orders that she came near pulling her husband over, even while she believed herself to be his main prop and support.
"Steady, vrouw, steady," panted Raff. "Have I grown old and
feeble, or is it the fever makes me thus helpless?"
"Hear the man!"--Dame Brinker laughed--"talking like any other
Christian! Why, you're only weak from the fever, Raff. Here's
the chair, all fixed snug and warm. Now, sit thee
down--hi-di-didy--there we are!"
With these words Dame Brinker let her half of the burden settle
slowly into the chair. Hans prudently did the same.
Meanwhile Gretel flew about generally, bringing every possible
thing to her mother to tuck behind the father's back and spread
over his knees. Then she twitched the carved bench under his
feet, and Hans kicked the fire to make it brighter.
The father was sitting up at last. What wonder that he looked
about him like one bewildered. "Little Hans" had just been
almost carrying him. "The baby" was over four feet long and was
demurely brushing up the hearth with a bundle of willow wisps. Meitje, the vrouw, winsome and fair as ever, had gained at least fifty pounds in what seemed to him a few hours. She also had some new lines in her face that puzzled him. The only familiar things in the room were the pine table that he had made before he was married, the Bible upon the shelf, and the cupboard in the corner.
Ah! Raff Brinker, it was only natural that your eyes should fill
with hot tears even while looking at the joyful faces of your
loved ones. Ten years dropped from a man's life are no small
loss; ten years of manhood, of household happiness and care; ten
years of honest labor, of conscious enjoyment of sunshine and
outdoor beauty, ten years of grateful life--one day looking
forward to all this; the next, waking to find them passed and a
blank. What wonder the scalding tears dropped one by one upon
your cheek!
Tender little Gretel! The prayer of her life was answered
through those tears. She LOVED her father silently at that
moment. Hans and his mother glanced silently at each other when
they saw her spring toward him and throw her arms about his neck.
"Father, DEAR Father," she whispered, pressing her cheek close to
his, "don't cry. We are all here."
"God bless thee," sobbed Raff, kissing her again and again. "I
had forgotten that!"
Soon he looked up again and spoke in a cheerful voice. "I should
know her, vrouw," he said, holding the sweet young face between
his hands and gazing at it as though he were watching it grow. "I should know her. The same blue eyes and the lips, and ah! me, the little song she could sing almost before she could stand. But that was long ago," he added, with a sigh, still looking at her dreamily. "Long ago; it's all gone now."
"Not so, indeed," cried Dame Brinker eagerly. "Do you think I
would let her forget it? Gretel, child, sing the old song thou
hast known so long!"
Raff Brinker's hand fell wearily and his eyes closed, but it was
something to see the smile playing about his mouth as Gretel's
voice floated about him like incense.
It was a simple air; she had never known the words.
With loving instinct she softened every note, until Raff almost
fancied that his two-year-old baby was once more beside him.
As soon as the song was finished, Hans mounted a wooden stool and
began to rummage in the cupboard.
"Have a care, Hans," said Dame Brinker, who through all her
poverty was ever a tidy housewife. "Have a care, the wine is
there at your right and the white bread beyond it."
"Never fear, Mother," answered Hans, reaching far back on an
upper shelf. "I shall do no mischief."
Jumping down, he walked toward his father and placed an oblong
block of pine wood in his hands. One of its ends was rounded
off, and some deep cuts had been made on the top.
"Do you know what that is, Father?" asked Hans.
