“Certainly, son, why not?” answered Lysbeth, kindly. Adrian’s voice warned her that his temper was ruffled.
“Because there is no place for me, mother, that is all, though doubtless it is more worthily filled by the Rev. Pastor Arentz. Still, after a man has been fighting for his life with armed thieves, well—a bit of food and a place to eat it in would have been welcome.”
“Fighting for your life, son!” said Lysbeth astonished. “Why, from what Elsa has just been telling us, I gathered that the rascals ran away at the first blow which you struck with your staff.”
“Indeed, mother; well, doubtless if the lady says that, it was so. I took no great note; at the least they ran and she was saved, with the others; a small service not worth mentioning, still useful in its way.”
“Oh! take my chair, Adrian,” said Foy rising, “and don’t make such a stir about a couple of cowardly footpads and an old hag. You don’t want us to think you a hero because you didn’t turn tail and leave Elsa and her companions in their hands, do you?”
“What you think, or do not think, is a matter of indifference to me,” replied Adrian, seating himself with an injured air.
“Whatever my cousin Foy may think, Heer Adrian,” broke in Elsa anxiously, “I am sure I thank God who sent so brave a gentleman to help us. Yes, yes, I mean it, for it makes me sick to remember what might have happened if you had not rushed at those wicked men like—like——”
“Like David on the Philistines,” suggested Foy.
“You should study your Bible, lad,” put in Arentz with a grave smile. “It was Samson who slew the Philistines; David conquered the giant Goliath, though it is true that he also was a Philistine.”
“Like Samson—I mean David—on Goliath,” continued Elsa confusedly. “Oh! please, cousin Foy, do not laugh; I believe that you would have left me at the mercy of that dreadful man with a flat face and the bald head, who was trying to steal my father’s letter. By the way, cousin Dirk, I have not given it to you yet, but it is quite safe, sewn up in the lining of the saddle, and I was to tell you that you must read it by the old cypher.”
“Man with a flat face,” said Dirk anxiously, as he slit away at the stitches of the saddle to find the letter; “tell me about him. What was he like, and what makes you think he wished to take the paper from you?”