The Belgian Twins Page 13

  XIII

  REFUGEES

  If I were to tell you all the strange new sights that Jan and Mariesaw, and all the things they did in England, it would make this book sobig you could not hold it up to read it, so I must skip all about thegreat house in the southern part of England where they next foundthemselves. This house was the great country place of a very rich man,and when the war broke out he had given it to be used as a shelter forhomeless Belgians. There were the most wonderful woods and parks on theestate, and miles of beautiful drives. There were great gardens andstables and hothouses; and the house was much bigger and finer than anyJan and Marie had ever seen in all their lives. It seemed to them as ifthey had suddenly been changed into a prince and princess by some fairywand. They were not alone in all this splendor; other lost littleBelgian children were there, and there were lost parents, too, and itseemed such a pity that the lost parents and the lost children shouldnot be the very ones that belonged together, so that every one could behappy once more. However, bad as it was, it was so much better thananything they had known since the dreadful first night of the alarmthat Jan and Marie became almost happy again.

  At night they and the other homeless children slept in little whitecots set all in a row in a great picture gallery. They were given newclothes, for by this time even their best ones were quite worn out, andevery day they had plenty of good plain food to eat. Every day moreBelgians came, and still more, until not only the big house, but thestable and outbuildings were all running-over full of homeless people.One day, after they had been in this place for two or three weeks, Janand Marie were called into the room where sat the sweet-faced ladywhose home they were in. It was like an office, and there were severalother persons there with her.

  The sweet-faced lady spoke to them. "Jan and Marie," she said, "howwould you like to go to live with a dear lady in America who would loveyou, and take care of you, so you need never be lonely and sad again?"

  "But our mother!" gasped Marie, bursting into tears. "We have not foundher!"

  "You will not lose her any more by going to America," said the lady,"for, you see, we shall know all about you here, and if your mothercomes, we shall be able to tell her just where to find you. Meanwhileyou will be safe and well cared for, far away from all the dreadfulthings that are happening here."

  "It is so far away!" sobbed Marie.

  Jan said nothing; he was busy swallowing lumps in his own throat.

  "You see, dears," the lady said gently, "you can be together there, forthis woman has no children of her own, and is willing to take both ofyou. That does not often happen, and, besides, she is a Belgian; I knowyou will find a good home with her."

  "You're sure we could be together?" asked Jan.

  "Yes," said the lady.

  "Because," said Jan, "Mother said I must take care of Marie."

  "And she said she'd find us again if she had to swim the sea," saidMarie, feeling of her locket and smiling through her tears.

  "She won't have to swim," said the lady. "We will see to that! If shecomes here, she shall go for you in a fine big ship, and so that's allsettled." She kissed their woebegone little faces. "You are going tostart to-morrow," she said. "The good captain of the ship has promisedto take care of you, so you will not be afraid, and I know you will begood children."

  It seemed like a month to Jan and Marie, but it was really only sevendays later that they stood on the deck of the good ship Caspian, as itsteamed proudly into the wonderful harbor of New York. It was dusk, andalready the lights of the city sparkled like a sky full of starsdropped down to earth. High above the other stars shone the great torchof "Liberty enlightening the World." "Oh," gasped Marie, as she gazed,"New York must be as big as heaven. Do you suppose that is an angelholding a candle to light us in?"

  Just then the captain came to find them, and a few minutes later theywalked with him down the gangplank, right into a pair of outstretchedarms. The arms belonged to Madame Dujardin, their new mother. "I shouldhave known them the moment I looked at them, even if they hadn't beenwith the captain," she cried to her husband, who stood smiling by herside. "Poor darlings, your troubles are all over now! Just as soon asCaptain Nichols says you may, you shall come with us, and oh, I have somany things to show you in your new home!"

  She drew them with her to a quieter part of the dock, while her husbandtalked with the captain, and then, when they had bidden him good-bye,they were bundled into a waiting motor car and whirled away throughmiles of brilliantly lighted streets and over a wonderful bridge, andon and on, until they came to green lawns, and houses set among treesand shrubs, and it seemed to the children as if they must have reachedthe very end of the world. At last the car stopped before a housestanding some distance back from the street in a large yard, and thechildren followed their new friends through the bright doorway of theirhouse.

  Madame Dujardin helped them take off their things in the pleasanthallway, where an open fire was burning, and later, when they werewashed and ready, she led the way to a cheerful dining room, wherethere was a pretty table set for four. There were flowers on the table,and they had chicken for supper, and, after that, ice cream! Jan andMarie had never tasted ice cream before in their whole lives! Theythought they should like America very much.

  After supper their new mother took them upstairs and showed them twolittle rooms with a bathroom between. One room was all pink and whitewith a dear little white bed in it, and she said to Marie, "This isyour room, my dear." The other room was all in blue and white withanother dear little white bed in it, and she said to Jan, "This is yourroom, my dear." And there were clean white night-gowns on the beds, andlittle wrappers with gay flowered slippers, just waiting for Jan andMarie to put them on.

  "Oh, I believe it is heaven!" cried Marie, as she looked about thepretty room. Then she touched Madame Dujardin's sleeve timidly. "Is itall true?" she said. "Shan't we wake up and have to go somewhere elsepretty soon?"

  "No, dear," said Madame Dujardin gently. "You are going to stay righthere now and be happy."

  "It will be a very nice place for Mother to find us in," said Jan. "Shewill come pretty soon now, I should think."

  "I hope she may," said Madame Dujardin, tears twinkling in her eyes.

  "I'm sure she will," said Marie. "You see everybody is looking for her.There's Granny, and Mother and Father De Smet, and Joseph, and thepeople in Rotterdam, and the people in England, too; and then, besides,Mother is looking for herself, of course!"

  "She said she would surely find us even if she had to swim the sea,"added Jan.

  XIV

  THE MOST WONDERFUL PART

  And now comes the most wonderful part of the story!

  Madame Dujardin prepared a bath and said to Marie: "You may have thefirst turn in the tub because you're a girl. In America the girls havethe best of everything", she laughed at Jan, as she spoke. "I will helpyou undress. Jan, you may get ready and wait for your turn in your ownroom." She unbuttoned Marie's dress, slipped off her clothes, and heldup the gay little wrapper for her to put her arms into, and just thenshe noticed the locket on her neck. "We'll take this off, too," shesaid, beginning to unclasp it.

  But Marie clung to it with both hands. "No, no," she cried. "Mothersaid I was never, never to take it off. It has her picture in it."

  "May I see it, dear?" asked Madame Dujardin. "I should like to knowwhat your mother looks like." Marie nestled close to her, and MadameDujardin opened the locket.

  For a moment she gazed at the picture in complete silence, her eyesstaring at it like two blue lights. Then she burst into a wild fit ofweeping, and cried out, "Leonie! Leonie! It is not possible! My ownsister's children!" She clasped the bewildered Marie in her arms andkissed her over and over again. She ran to the door and brought in Janand kissed him; and then she called her husband. When he came in andsaw her with her arms around both children at once, holding the locketin her hands, and laughing and crying both together, he, too, wasbewildered.

  "What in the world
is the matter, Julie?" he cried.

  For answer, she pointed to the face in the locket. "Leonie! Leonie!"she cried. "They are my own sister's children! Surely the hand of Godis in this!"

  Her husband looked at the locket. "So it is! So it is!" he said inastonishment. "I thought at first you had gone crazy."

  "See!" cried his wife. "It's her wedding-gown, and afterward she gaveme those very beads she has around her neck! I have them yet!" Sherushed from the room and returned in a moment with the beads in herhand.

  Meanwhile Jan and Marie had stood still, too astonished to do more thanstare from one amazed and excited face to the other, as their newfather and mother gazed, first at them, and then at the locket, andlast at the beads, scarcely daring to believe the testimony of theirown eyes. "To think," cried Madame Dujardin at last, "that I should nothave known! But there are many Van Hoves in Belgium, and it neveroccurred to me that they could be my own flesh and blood. It is yearssince I have heard from Leonie. In fact, I hardly knew she had anychildren, our lives have been so different. Oh, it is all my fault,"she cried, weeping again. "But if I have neglected her, I will make itup to her children! It may be, oh, it is just possible that she isstill alive, and that she may yet write to me after all these years!Sorrow sometimes bridges wide streams!"

  Then she turned more quietly to the children.

  "You see, dears," she said, "I left Belgium many years ago, and camewith your uncle to this country. We were poor when we came, but youruncle has prospered as one can in America. At first Leonie and I wroteregularly to each other. Then she grew more and more busy, and weseemed to have no ties in common, so that at last we lost sight of eachother altogether." She opened her arms to Marie and Jan as she spoke,and held them for some time in a close embrace.

  Finally she lifted her head and laughed. "This will never do!" sheexclaimed. "You must have your baths, even if you are my own dear nieceand nephew. The water must be perfectly cold by this time!"

  She went into the bathroom, turned on more hot water, and popped Marieinto the tub. In half an hour both children had said their prayers andwere tucked away for the night in their clean white beds.

  Wonderful days followed for Jan and Marie. They began to go to school;they had pretty clothes and many toys, and began to make friends amongthe little American children of the neighborhood. But in the midst ofthese new joys they did not forget their mother, still looking forthem, or their father, now fighting, as they supposed, in the crueltrenches of Belgium. But at last there came a day when Aunt Juliereceived a letter with a foreign postmark. She opened it, withtrembling fingers, and when she saw that it began, "My dear SisterJulie," she wept so for joy that she could not see to read it, and herhusband had to read it for her.

  This was the letter:

  You will perhaps wonder at hearing from me after the long years of silence that have passed, but I have never doubted the goodness of your heart, my Julie, nor your love for your poor Leonie, even though our paths in life have led such different ways. And now I must tell you of the sorrows which have broken my heart. Georges was obliged to go into the army at a moment's notice when the war broke out. A few days later the Germans swept through Meer, driving the people before them like chaff before the wind. As our house was on the edge of the village, I was the first to see them coming. I hid the children in the vegetable cellar, but before I could get to a hiding-place for myself, they swept over the town, driving every man, woman, and child before them. To turn back then was impossible, and it was only after weeks of hardship and danger that I at last succeeded in struggling through the territory occupied by Germans to the empty city of Malines, and the deserted village where we had been so happy! On the kitchen door of our home I found a paper pinned. On it was printed, "Dear Mother--We have gone to Malines to find you--Jan and Marie." Since then I have searched every place where there seemed any possibility of my finding my dear children, but no trace of them can I find. Then, through friends in Antwerp, I learned that Georges had been wounded and was in a hospital there and I went at once to find him. He had lost an arm in the fighting before Antwerp and was removed to Holland after the siege began. Here we have remained since, still hoping God would hear our prayers and give us news of our dear children. It would even be a comfort to know surely of their death, and if I could know that they were alive and well, I think I should die of joy. Georges can fight no more; our home is lost; we are beggars until this war is over and our country once more restored to us. I am now at work in a factory, earning what keeps body and soul together. Georges must soon leave the hospital, then, God knows what may befall us. How I wish we had been wise like you, my Julie, and your Paul, and that we had gone, with you to America years ago! I might then have my children with me in comfort. If you get this letter, write to your heart-broken

  LEONIE.

  It was not a letter that went back that very day; it was a cablegram,and it said:

  Jan and Marie are safe with me. Am sending money with this to the Bank of Holland, for your passage to America. Come at once. JULIE.

  People do not die of joy, or I am sure that Father and Mother Van Hovewould never have survived the reading of that message. Instead it putsuch new strength and energy into their weary souls and bodies that twodays later they were on their way to England, and a week later stillthey stood on the deck of the Arabia as it steamed into New YorkHarbor. Jan and Marie with Uncle Paul and Aunt Julie met them at thedock, and there are very few meetings, this side of heaven, like thereunion of those six persons on that day.

  The story of that first evening together can hardly be told. First.Father and Mother Van Hove listened to Jan and Marie as they told oftheir wanderings with Fidel, of the little old eel woman, of Father andMother De Smet, of the attack by Germans and of the friends they foundin Holland and in England; and when everybody had cried a good dealabout that, Father Van Hove told what had happened to him; then MotherVan Hove told of her long and perilous search for her children; andthere were more tears of thankfulness and joy, until it seemed as iftheir hearts were filled to the brim and running over. But when, lastof all, Uncle Paul told of the plans which he and Aunt Julie had madefor the family, they found there was room in their hearts for stillmore joy.

  "I have a farm in the country," said Uncle Paul. "It is not very farfrom New York. There is a good house on it; it is already stocked. Ineed a farmer to take care of the place for me, and trustworthy help ishard to get here. If you will manage it for me, Brother Georges, Ishall have no further anxiety about it, and shall expect to enjoy thefruits of it as I have never yet been able to do. Leonie shall makesome of her good butter for our city table, and the children" here hepinched Marie's cheek, now round and rosy once more "the children shallpick berries and help on the farm all summer. In winter they can comeback to Uncle Paul and Aunt Julie and go to school here, for they areour children now, as well as yours."

  Father Van Hove rose, stretched out his one hand, and, grasping UnclePaul's, tried to thank him, but his voice failed.

  "Don't say a word, old man," said Uncle Paul, clasping Father VanHove's hand with both of his. "All the world owes a debt to Belgiumwhich it can never pay. Her courage and devotion have saved the rest ofus from the miseries she has borne so bravely. If you got your justdeserts, you'd get much more than I can ever give you."

  In the end it all came about just as Uncle Paul had said, and the VanHoves are living in comfort and happiness on that farm this very day.

  THE END

  SUGGESTIONS TO TEACHERS

  American children who have been giving their pennies to help take careof little Belgian children will find this new "Twins" book one of themost appealing that Mrs. Perkins has ever written. The author's
Prefacestates the sources of her inspiration. As usual, her story will befound sympathetic in spirit and accurate as to facts.

  At the present day books are constantly issuing from the press whichwill assist teachers in planning their own preparation for the classreading of this book; for example, Griffis's: "Belgium: The Land ofArt" and Gibson's: "A Journal from our Legation in Belgium". Booksissued in past years which tell other stories of exile or emigration,or which deal with European countries neighboring Belgium, also havetheir place in the teacher's reading. We may suggest Griffis's: "ThePilgrims in Their Three Homes" and "Brave Little Holland", and Davis's"History of Medieval and Modern Europe" (sections 238, 266, and theaccount of the present war). A file of the National GeographicMagazine, accessible in most public libraries, will be found to containmany articles and illustrations which will be invaluable in thisconnection. Picture postcards, also, will supply a wealth ofappropriate subjects. Children should be encouraged to bring materialof this sort to school.

  Once the historical and geographical background has been sketched, theteacher may safely trust the children to get the most out of the story.Fifth grade pupils can read it without preparation. Pupils in thefourth grade should first read it in a study period in order to workout the pronunciation of the more difficult words.

  The possibilities for dramatization will be immediately apparent. Inthis, the author's illustrations will, as in all the "Twins" books,furnish hints as to scenes and action. They may likewise be used as thesubjects of both oral and written compositions--each pupil selectingthe picture most interesting to him, and retelling its story in his ownwords.

  The illustrations may be used, also, as models for the pupils'sketching; their simple style renders them especially suitable for thisuse.