"Morning Hour" and "Eagle" had fused into something that had wings and was called fancy.
Fancy lifted Walter up and bore him away.
When she brought him back to the bridge again it had already been dark for a long time. He shook himself as if he were wet, rubbed his eyes and started home. We shall see later what awaited him there; but first we must go back a few hours. I hope the reader will not disdain an invitation to Juffrouw Pieterse's. Remember that her husband never made anything, but bought everything ready-made in Paris.
In passing by I should like to make Master Pennewip a short visit.
School was out; and the seats looked as if the pupils had just left the tediousness of it all lying there. The map of Europe looked down peevishly on the heap of writing-pads. There lay the mutilated and well-worn goose-quills, which since time immemorial have opened up the gates of learning. True, the black-board vaunted itself with the heavy results of the last lesson in "fractions"; but the school was no more. The spirit had fled: It was a corpse.
Yes, the "Geist" had gone out with the children; for the reader will see in a moment that they carried about with them a tremendous amount of that article.
We already know that this was the great day when Pennewip was to criticise the poetical effusions of his young geniuses. There he sat, his restless wig sharing all the poetical feelings and emotions--and motions--of its owner. We will just look over his shoulder and read with him those inestimable treasures of poetic art; and perhaps we too shall be moved to emotion.
Cake and wine and native land, Out in the moonlight I take my stand; Our native land and cake and wine, And I hope the moon will shine; Five fingers have I on my hand, All to honor our native land.
"Melodious," said the teacher, "very melodious; and very profound. Cake and wine, with our native land as a climax."
The cat is sly, I know; My father is a dealer in Po- Tatoes and onions.
"Original, immediate! But I don't like the way she cuts her potatoes in twain."
He stands on the chimney since long ago, And shows the wind which way to blow.
"Smooth, but not quite correct, if examined closely--but I'll let it pass as poetic license."