“Just outside, and very nice babies indeed,” says the nurse, opening the hall door and giving a soft call.
Enter a slim black-haired boy of about three and a half years and a plump golden-haired girl about a year younger. They toddle to the nurse and snuggle against her blue dress and white apron.
Smiling she guides them toward the commandant and says: “Here they are, sir. How do you like them?”
That terrific personage has been suddenly transformed from haircloth into silk. He beams, and pulling out his fat gold watch, coos like a hoarse dove: “Look here, _kinderen_, come and hear the bells in my tick-tock!”
Presently he has one of them leaning against the inside of each knee, listening ardently to the watch.
“What do you think of that!” he says. “What is your name, youngster?”
“Hendrik _what?_ You have another name, haven't you?”
The boy shakes his head and looks puzzled, as if the thought of two names were too much for him. _“Hendrik,”_ he repeats more clearly and firmly.
“And what is her name?” asks the commandant, patting the little girl.
_“Sooss,”_ answers the boy. “Mama say _'ickle angel.'_ Hendrik say _Sooss.”_
All effort to get any more information from the children was fruitless. They were too small to remember much, and what they did remember was of their own size--only very little things, of no importance except to themselves. The commandant looks at the nurse quizzically.
“Now, miss, you have unloaded these vague babies on me. What do you propose that I should do with them? Adopt them?”
“Not yet, anyhow,” she answers, smiling broadly. “Let us take them up to the camp. I'll bet we can find some one there to look after them. What do you say, sir?”
“Well, well,” he sighs, “have your own way as usual! Just ring that bell for the automobile, _als't-Ublieft.”_
In the busy sewing-room the two children are standing up on one of the tables. The commandant has an arm around each of them, for they are a little frightened by so much noise and so many eyes looking at them. The chatter dies down, as he speaks in his gruff authoritative voice, but with a twinkle in his eyes, rather like a middle-aged Santa Claus.
_“Ja, Men'eer,”_ says one of the women, “congratulations! They are _lievelingen_--darlings!”