Walter Pieterse Part 44

Yesterday Walter would have exerted himself to see a live, fullgrown king, just to find out if he looked like Macbeth, or Arthur, or Lear. To-day he was so tired that kings did not interest him.

He was just starting on, when the coachmen suddenly a.s.sumed a rigid att.i.tude. A boy remarked that "they" were coming now. He was right: they did come; and all, except one old lady, drove away so rapidly that scarcely anyone saw them. She touched her coachman on the shoulder.

"She has forgotten something," said the boy.

Three or four cavaliers stormed back into the palace and brought her fan. While they were gone, the boys wondered at the pimples on her face. Walter's pictures had had nothing of that kind. How different Femke's face was!

Walter trudged along further; and, without thinking of where he was going, he came to the meadow where Femke and her mother dried their clothes. He sat down on the gra.s.s, intending to wait for the first signs of life in Femke's home. He was not certain that she was there; he did not know but that she might still be at Holsma's; but there would be somebody there.

Overcome by weariness he lay down and gradually fell asleep. His cap came off, rolled down into the ditch and disappeared in the mud.

If anyone pa.s.sed by, he remarked that there lay a drunken fellow. Yes, youth begins early. Possibly the fellow was sick; but then the police would take care of him. n.o.body hurt him; n.o.body touched him. His dreams were undisturbed.

He dreamed of various things; but the princ.i.p.al object of his dreams was a young girl, who was standing on a platform playing ball with heavy men, as if that were nothing. Suddenly it was little Sietske Holsma.

Then in his dreams he heard a voice:

"Goodness, boy, how did you get here?"

At first the voice was far away, then nearer, and finally quite near. He had the dim impression that somebody was pulling him up to a sitting posture.

"Sietske!" he whispered, still sleeping.

"Yes, that's my name. How did you know it?"

"Sietske----!"

"Why, certainly. Who told you? And what are you doing here. It isn't very respectable. Are you drunk? And so young, too."

He called Sietske's name again.

"You may call me by my first name, if you want to; but how does it come? Did Femke tell you? It's a real disgrace to lie here like a hog. What were you going to say?"

Walter rubbed his eyes and felt of his head. "I would like to wash myself," he said, not yet wide awake.

"All right," cried Mrs. Claus. "And you're not hurt, are you? Where is your cap?"

"Wash--with cold water," Walter said.

"Good! Come to the pump with me." She led him through the house and across the back yard.

"You needn't be afraid to undress here; n.o.body can see you. But how did you happen to call me by my first name all at once. Not that I'm offended at all."

Walter was still too much asleep to recall what had happened to him during the past few hours; so he only said that he had a headache and must wash himself first.

Mrs. Claus, noticing that he was ashamed to undress, hung some quilts on the fence, thus converting the yard into a sort of room. It never occurred to her that her own presence might embarra.s.s him. Walter was still not quite pleased with the outlook for a bath; but since yesterday he had been thinking of other things as strange.

He began to strip, allowing Mrs. Claus to help him, just as if he had been fifteen years younger than he was. To Mrs. Claus he was only a child.

She laid him on a bench under the spout and began to pump. At the first drops he s.h.i.+vered; then the water flooded his head and shoulders. He could neither see nor speak. His efforts to speak she interpreted as calls for more water.

"Yes, this will be good for you." Her words were drowned by the splas.h.i.+ng water.

"You didn't hurt yourself, did you? Do you think that will be enough now? I've pumped till I've got a pain in my side. But if you think that----"

She stopped all at once, but still held on to the pump handle, as if to show her willingness to continue.

"I forgot entirely to"--she began pumping again--"wash you off with green soap. Femke always washes herself with it. It makes the skin nice and smooth.--You ought to see your back now. It s.h.i.+nes like a looking-gla.s.s."

Walter wanted to say something but couldn't.

"Yes, and your forehead, too. It's the green soap that does it. I guess your mother never washes you with green soap, does she? Then one must scour and scrub and rub. But, if you are not used to soap----"

She lifted that terrible pump handle again.

"I believe this will be about enough," Walter blubbered. His mouth was so full of water that again Mrs. Claus did not understand him.

"Green soap is good for corns, and for rheumatism." She was pumping away for dear life.

Walter finally succeeded in rescuing himself and the bench from that destructive stream of water. He was now able to make his cries for mercy understood; but he was not yet able to get up. Besides, the good woman had hung his clothes out of his reach, and he was ashamed. He remained sitting.

"Do you want anything else?" inquired the water nymph.

"No, no, no!" he answered quickly. She was already lifting the pump-handle again. "But----"

The simple, innocent woman did not understand; and, when he continued to sit there like a helpless lump of misery, she asked:

"Do you have a pain anywhere?"

"No, I haven't any pains."

"Are you tired?"

He was still tired, and said so.

"And I woke you up! I'll tell you what, you must go to sleep and take a good nap."

She began drying him off, as if that were a usual thing in her day's work. Then she rolled him up in a sheet and carried him off like a sack of clothes. He could not but notice the way she laid him down. Then she covered him warmly.

"Straighten out your legs, my boy."

Walter did as she said, and experienced an indescribable feeling of comfort. And when she punched him and patted him and tucked him in, and said: "Poor child, you can sleep good now. This is Femke's bed, you know----" then he was more than comfortable; he was delighted.

When he awakened at about four o'clock in the afternoon he heard whispering voices. He listened, at first to find out where he was, and then to understand what was being said.

It seemed as if there were a plot further to confuse Sietske with Femke in his mind.

"Yes, Sietske; but what does he mean by lying out like that? If I were his mother----"