XXXV
BONES AND TONGUES
Bones are strange things. One would suppose that they knew nothing atall about school affairs, but they do. Even Jacob Poot's bones, buriedas they were in flesh, were sharp in the matter of study hours.
Early on the morning of his return they ached through and through,giving Jacob a twinge at every stroke of the school-bell--as if to say"stop that clapper! There's trouble in it." After school, on thecontrary, they were quiet and comfortable; in fact, seemed to be takinga nap among their cushions.
The other boys' bones behaved in a similar manner--but that is not soremarkable. Being nearer the daylight than Jacob's, they might beexpected to be more learned in the ways of the world. Master Ludwig's,especially, were like beauty, only skin deep; they were the most knowingbones you ever heard of. Just put before him ever so quietly, aGrammar-book with a long lesson marked in it, and immediately the slybone over his eyes would set up such an aching! Request him to go to thegarret for your foot-stove--instantly the bones would remind him that hewas "too tired." Ask him to go to the confectioner's, a mile away, and_presto!_ not a bone would remember that it ever had been used before.
Bearing all this in mind you will not wonder when I tell you that ourfive boys were among the happiest of the happy throng pouring forth fromthe schoolhouse that day.
Peter was in excellent spirits. He had heard through Hilda of DameBrinker's laugh and of Hans' joyous words, and he needed no furtherproof that Raff Brinker was a cured man. In fact the news had gone forthin every direction, for miles around. Persons who had never before caredfor the Brinkers, or even mentioned them, except with a contemptuoussneer or a shrug of pretended pity, now became singularly familiar withevery point of their history. There was no end to the number ofridiculous stories that were flying about.
Hilda, in the excitement of the moment, had stopped to exchange a wordwith the doctor's coachman, as he stood by the horses, pommelling hischest and clapping his hands. Her kind heart was overflowing. She couldnot help pausing to tell the cold, tired-looking man that she thoughtthe doctor would be out soon; she even hinted to him that shesuspected--only suspected--that a wonderful cure had been performed--anidiot brought to his senses. Nay, she was _sure_ of it--for she hadheard his widow laugh--no, not his widow, of course, but his wife--forthe man was as much alive as anybody, and, for all she knew, sitting upand talking like a lawyer.
All this was very indiscreet. Hilda in an impenitent sort of way felt itto be so.
But it is always so delightful to impart pleasant or surprising news!
She went tripping along by the canal, quite resolved to repeat the sin,_ad infinitum_, and tell nearly every girl and boy in the school.
Meantime, Janzoon Kolp came skating by. Of course, in two seconds, hewas striking slippery attitudes, and shouting saucy things to thecoachman, who stared at him in indolent disdain.
This, to Janzoon, was equivalent to an invitation to draw nearer. Thecoachman was now upon his box gathering up the reins and grumbling athis horses.
Janzoon accosted him.
"I say. What's going on at the idiot's cottage? Is your boss in there?"
Coachman nodded mysteriously.
"Whew!" whistled Janzoon, drawing closer. "Old Brinker dead?"
The driver grew big with importance, and silent in proportion.
"See here, old pincushion, I'd run home yonder and get you a chunk ofgingerbread if I thought you could open your mouth."
Old pincushion was human--long hours of waiting had made him ravenouslyhungry. At Janzoon's hint, his countenance showed signs of a collapse.
"That's right, old fellow," pursued his tempter, "hurry up--whatnews--old Brinker dead?"
"No--CURED! got his wits," said the coachman, shooting forth his words,one at a time, like so many bullets.
Like bullets (figuratively speaking) they hit Janzoon Kolp. He jumped asif he had been shot.
"Goede Gunst! you don't say so!"
The man pressed his lips together, and looked significantly towardMaster Kolp's shabby residence.
Just then Janzoon saw a group of boys in the distance. Hailing them in arowdy style, common to boys of his stamp all over the world, whether inAfrica, Japan, Amsterdam or Paris--he scampered toward them, forgettingcoachman, gingerbread, everything but the wonderful news.
Therefore by sundown it was well known throughout the neighboringcountry that Dr. Boekman chancing to stop at the cottage had given theidiot Brinker a tremendous dose of medicine, as brown as gingerbread. Ithad taken six men to hold him while it was poured down. The idiot hadimmediately sprung to his feet, in full possession of all hisfaculties--knocked over the doctor, or thrashed him (there was admittedto be a slight uncertainty as to which of these penalties wasinflicted), then sat down and addressed him for all the world like alawyer. After that he had turned and spoken beautifully to his wife andchildren. Dame Brinker had laughed herself into violent hysterics. Hanshad said, "Here I am, father! your own dear son," and Gretel had said,"Here I am, father, your own dear Gretel!" and the doctor had afterwardbeen seen leaning back in his carriage looking just as white as acorpse.