Now, what do you suppose the wig did? It did the best thing that could be done under the circumstances. More could not be expected of a wig. As soon as it saw the futility of its efforts to comprehend the difference between fishing, friendship, deception, dreams, religion and cauliflower, it merely ignored the whole matter, readjusted itself and assumed an expression of expectancy for what was yet to come.
Pulling the rope with emotion, To the top of the mast he came, And then he went to the ocean, And won for himself great fame.
And very much more he perfected, Saleh he vanquished, too; A hero he was then elected, With nothing else to do.
The wig lifted itself, the curls applauding enthusiastically. It was evidently pleased.
The caterpillar, free from care, Crawls on the tree just over there.
"Descriptive poetry. A daring idea--the caterpillar crawling on the tree free from care."
Ah, the pleasure of a wig is short-lived! And how soon was this one--but I will not anticipate. Soon, all too soon, the reader will know the worst.
"Aha, what's this? And 'goodness'? But where has he written on goodness?"
The teacher could scarcely believe his eyes. He turned the sheet of paper over and examined the back side, hoping to discover there some lines on goodness.
Then he saw that on Walter's sheet there was not a trace of "goodness."
Yes, wretched wig! For after it had suffered as never wig had suffered before, after it had been pulled at and tugged at and martyred in a manner beyond even the imagination of the Wilde family, Master Pennewip snatched it from his head, twisted it convulsively in his hands, stammered a short "Heaven-human-Christian-soul-good-gracious-my-life--how is it possible!" slapped it on his head again, covered it with his venerable cap and burst out the door like one possessed.
He was on his way to Walter's home, where we shall soon see him arrive. As a conscientious historian, however, it will be my duty first to give an account of the happenings there.
"Goodness, I'm glad to see you! And so early, too! Leetje, place a chair over there and get the footstool, but be in a hurry, or I'd rather do it myself. And how are you? Juffrouw Laps is coming too, you know--Myntje, you'd better be thinking of your dough and stop combing your head. That girl can't keep her hands off of her hair when there's company. But do take a seat--no, not in the corner; there's a draft there."