THE BELGIAN TWINS

By

Lucy Fitch Perkins

Geographical Series

 THE DUTCH TWINS PRIMER. Grade I. THE DUTCH TWINS. Grade III. THE ESKIMO TWINS. Grade II. THE FILIPINO TWINS. Grade IV. THE JAPANESE TWINS. Grade IV. THE SWISS TWINS. Grade IV. THE IRISH TWINS. Grade V. THE ITALIAN TWINS. Grades V and VI. THE SCOTCH TWINS. Grades V and VI. THE MEXICAN TWINS. Grade VI. THE BELGIAN TWINS. Grade VI. THE FRENCH TWINS. Grade VII. 

Historical Series

 THE CAVE TWINS. Grade IV. THE SPARTAN TWINS. Grades V-VI. THE PURITAN TWINS. Grades VI-VII. 

To the friends of Belgian Children--

PREFACE

In this sad hour of the world's history, when so many homes have beenbroken up, and so many hearts burdened with heavy sorrows, it iscomforting to think of the many heroic souls who, throughout thestruggle, have gone about their daily tasks with unfailing courage andcheerfulness, and by so doing have helped to carry the burdens of theworld, and to sustain other hearts as heavy as their own. 

It is comforting, also, to know that there are many instances of happyreunions after long and unspeakable anxieties, adventures, and trials. 

This story of two little Belgian refugees is based upon the actualexperience of two Belgian children, and the incident of the locket isquite true. 

The characters of the eel-woman and the mother of the Twins have alsotheir living originals, from whose courage and devotion the author hasreceived much inspiration. 

CONTENTS

 I. THE HARVEST-FIELD II. THE RUMORS III. THE ALARM IV. "FOR KING, FOR LAW AND LIBERTY" V. DOING A MAN'S WORK VI. AT THE CHURCH VII. THE TIDAL WAVE OF GERMANS VIII. GRANNY AND THE EELS IX. OFF FOR ANTWERP X. ON THE TOW-PATH XI. THE ATTACK XII. THE ZEPPELIN RAID XIII. REFUGEES XIV. THE MOST WONDERFUL PART

THE BELGIAN TWINS

I

THE HARVEST-FIELD

It was late in the afternoon of a long summer's day in Belgium. FatherVan Hove was still at work in the harvest-field, though the sun hung solow in the west that his shadow, stretching far across the level, greenplain, reached almost to the little red-roofed house on the edge of thevillage which was its home. Another shadow, not so long, and quite alittle broader, stretched itself beside his, for Mother Van Hove wasalso in the field, helping her husband to load the golden sheaves uponan old blue farm-cart which stood near by. 

Them were also two short, fat shadows which bobbed briskly about overthe green meadow as their owners danced among the wheat-sheaves orcarried handfuls of fresh grass to Pier, the patient white farm-horse, hitched to the cart. These gay shadows belonged to Jan and Marie, sometimes called by their parents Janke and Mie, for short. Jan andMarie were the twin son and daughter of Father and Mother Van Hove, andthough they were but eight years old, they were already quite used tohelping their father and mother with the work of their little farm. 

They knew how to feed the chickens and hunt the eggs and lead Pier towater and pull weeds in the garden. In the spring they had even helpedsow the wheat and barley, and now in the late summer they were helpingto harvest the grain. 

The children had been in the field since sunrise, but not all of thelong bright day had been given to labor. Early in the morning theirfather's pitchfork had uncovered a nest of field mice, and the Twinshad made another nest, as much like the first as possible, to put thehomeless field babies in, hoping that their mother would find themagain and resume her interrupted housekeeping. 

Then they had played for a long time in the tiny canal which separatedthe wheat-field from the meadow, where Bel, their black and white cow, was pastured. There was also Fidel, the dog, their faithful companionand friend. The children had followed him on many an excursion amongthe willows along the river-bank, for Fidel might at any moment comeupon the rabbit or water rat which he was always seeking, and what apity it would be for Jan and Marie to miss a sight like that!

When the sun was high overhead, the whole family, and Fidel also, hadrested under a tree by the little river, and Jan and Marie had sharedwith their father and mother the bread and cheese which had beenbrought from home for their noon meal. Then they had taken a nap in theshade, for it is a long day that begins and ends with the midsummersun. The bees hummed so drowsily in the clover that Mother Van Hovealso took forty winks, while Father Van Hove led Pier to the river fora drink; and tied him where he could enjoy the rich meadow grass for awhile. 

And now the long day was nearly over. The last level rays of thedisappearing sun glistened on the red roofs of the village, and thewindows of the little houses gave back an answering flash of light. Onthe steeple of the tiny church the gilded cross shone like fire againstthe gray of the eastern sky. 

The village clock struck seven and was answered faintly by the sound ofdistant chimes from the Cathedral of Malines, miles away across theplain. 

For some time Father Van Hove had been standing on top of the load, catching the sheaves which Mother Van Hove tossed up to him, andstowing them away in the farm-wagon, which was already heaped high withthe golden grain. As the clock struck, he paused in his labor, took offhis hat, and wiped his brow. He listened for a moment to the music ofthe bells, glanced at the western sky, already rosy with promise of thesunset, and at the weather-cock above the cross on the church-steeple. Then he looked down at the sheaves of wheat, still standing like tinytents across the field. 

"It's no use, Mother, " he said at last; "we cannot put it all into-night, but the sky gives promise of a fair day to-morrow, and theweather-cock, also, points east. We can finish in one more load; let usgo home now. "

"The clock struck seven, " cried Jan. "I counted the strokes. "

"What a scholar is our Janke!" laughed his mother, as she lifted thelast sheaf of wheat on her fork and tossed it at Father Van Hove'sfeet. "He can count seven when it is supper-time! As for me, I do notneed a clock; I can tell the time of day by the ache in my bones; and, besides that, there is Bel at the pasture bars waiting to be milked andbellowing to call me. "

"I don't need a clock either, " chimed in Marie, patting her aprontenderly; "I can tell time by my stomach. It's a hundred years since weate our lunch; I know it is. "

"Come, then, my starvelings, " said Mother Van Hove, pinching Marie'sfat cheek, "and you shall save your strength by riding home on theload! Here, Ma mie, up you go!"

She swung Marie into the air as she spoke. Father Van Hove reached downfrom his perch on top of the load, caught her in his arms, andenthroned her upon the fragrant grain. 

"And now it is your turn, my Janke!" cried Mother Van Hove, "and youshall ride on the back of old Pier like a soldier going to the wars!"She lifted Jan to the horse's back, while Father Van Hove climbed downto earth once more and took up the reins. 

Fidel came back dripping wet from the river, shook himself, and fell inbehind the wagon. "U--U!" cried Father Van Hove to old Pier, and thelittle procession moved slowly up the cart-path toward the shiningwindows of their red-roofed house. 

The home of the Van Hoves lay on the very outskirts of the littlehamlet of Meer. Beside it ran a yellow ribbon of road which stretchedacross the green plain clear to the city of Malines. As they turnedfrom the cart-path into the road, the old blue cart became part of alittle profession of similar wagons, for the other men of Meer werealso late in coming home to the village from their outlying farms. 

"Good-evening, neighbor, " cried Father Van Hove to Father Maes, whosehome lay beyond his in the village. "How are your crops coming on?"

"Never better, " answered Father Maes; "I have more wheat to the acrethan ever before. "

"So have I, thanks be to the good God;" answered Father Van Hove. "Thewinter will find our barns full this year. "

"Yes, " replied Father Maes a little sadly; "that is, if we have no badluck, but Jules Verhulst was in the city yesterday and heard rumors ofa German army on our borders. It is very likely only an idle tale tofrighten the women and children, but Jules says there are men also whobelieve it. "

"I shall believe nothing of the sort, " said Father Van Hove stoutly. "Are we not safe under the protection of our treaty? No, no, neighbor, there's nothing to fear! Belgium is neutral ground. "

"I hope you may be right, " answered Father Maes, cracking his whip, andthe cart moved on. 

Mother Van Hove, meanwhile, had hastened ahead of the cart to stir upthe kitchen fire and put the kettle on before the others should reachhome, and when Father Van Hove at last drove into the farmyard, she wasalready on the way to the pasture bars with her milk-pail on her arm. "Set the table for supper, ma Mie, " she called back, "and do not letthe pot boil over! Jan, you may shut up the fowls; they have alreadygone to roost. "

"And what shall I do, Mother?" laughed Father Van Hove. 

"You, " she called back, "you may unharness Pier and turn him out in thepasture for the night! And I'll wager I shall be back with a fullmilk-pail before you've even so much as fed the pig, let alone theother chores--men are so slow!" She waved her hand gayly anddisappeared behind the pasture bars, as she spoke. 

"Hurry, now, my man, " said Father Van Hove to Jan. "We must not letMother beat us! We will let the cart stand right there near the barn, and to-morrow we can store the grain away to make room for a new load. I will let you lead Pier to the pasture, while I feed the pig myself;by her squeals she is hungry enough to eat you up in one mouthful. "

II

THE RUMORS

When Mother Van Hove returned from the pasture, fifteen minutes later, her orders had all been carried out. Pier was in the pasture, the henswere shut up for the night, and the pig, which had been squealing withhunger, was row grunting with satisfaction over her evening meal; Fidelwas gnawing a bone, and Father Van Hove was already washing his handsat the pump, beside the kitchen door. 

"You are all good children, " said the mother as she set down herbrimming pail and took her turn at the wash-basin and the soap. "Janand Marie, have you washed your hands?"

"I have, " called Marie from the kitchen, "and supper is ready and thetable set. "

"I washed my hands in the canal this morning, " pleaded Jan. "Won't thatdo?"

"You ate your lunch this noon, too, " answered his mother promptly. "Won't that do? Why do you need to eat again when you have alreadyeaten twice today?"

"Because I am hungry again, " answered Jan. 

"Well, you are also dirty again, " said his mother, as she put the soapin his hands and wiped her own on the clean towel which Marie handedher from the door. She cleaned her wooden shoes on the bundle of strawwhich lay for the purpose beside the kitchen door; then she went insideand took her place opposite Father Van Hove at the little round oakentable by the window. 

Marie was already in her chair, and in a moment Jan joined them with abeaming smile and a face which, though clean in the middle, showed agray border from ear to ear. 

"If you don't believe I'm clean, look at the towel!" he said, holdingit up. 

"Oh, my heart!" cried his mother, throwing up her hands. "I declarethere's but one creature in all God's world that cares nothing forcleanliness! Even a pig has some manners if given half a chance, butboys!" She seized the grimy towel and held it up despairingly forFather Van Hove to see. "He's just wet his face and wiped all the dirtoff on the towel. The Devil himself is not more afraid of holy waterthan Jan Van Hove is of water of any kind!" she cried. 

"Go and wash yourself properly, Janke, " said his father sternly, andJan disappeared through the kitchen door. Sounds of vigorous pumpingand splashing without were heard in the kitchen, and when Jan appearedonce more, he was allowed to take his place at the supper-table withthe family. 

Father Van Hove bowed his head, and the Twins and their mother made thesign of the cross with him, as he began their grace before meat. "Inthe name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost, Amen, "prayed Father Van Hove. "Hail, Mary, full of Grace. " Then, as theprayer continued, the mother and children with folded hands and bowedheads joined in the petition: "Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for ussinners now and in the hour of our death, Amen. " A clatter of spoonsfollowed the grace, and Mother Van Hove's good buttermilk pap was notlong in disappearing down their four hungry throats. 

The long day in the open air had made the children so sleepy they couldscarcely keep their eyes open through the meal. "Come, my children, "said their mother briskly, as she rose from the table, "pop into bed, both of you, as fast as you can go. You are already half asleep!Father, you help them with their buttons, and hear them say theirprayers, while I wash up these dishes and take care of the milk. " Shetook a candle from the chimney-piece as she spoke, and started downcellar with the skimmer. When she came back into the kitchen once more, the children were safely tucked in bed, and her husband was seated bythe kitchen door with his chair tipped back against the wall, smokinghis evening pipe. Mother Van Hove cleared the table, washed the dishes, and brushed the crumbs from the tiled floor. Then she spread the whitesand once more under the table and in a wide border around the edge ofthe room, and hung the brush outside the kitchen door. 

Father Van Hove smoked in silence as she moved about the room. At lasthe said to her, "Leonie, did you hear what our neighbor Maes saidto-night as we were talking in the road?"

"No, " said his wife, "I was hurrying home to get supper. "

"Maes said there are rumors of a German army on our frontier, " saidFather Van Hove. 

His wife paused in front of him with her hands on her hips. "Whobrought that story to town?" she demanded. 

"Jules Verhulst, " answered her husband. 

"Jules Verhulst!" sniffed Mother Van Hove with disdain. "He knows morethings that aren't so than any man in this village. I wouldn't believeanything on his say-so! Besides, the whole world knows that all thePowers have agreed that Belgium shall be neutral ground, and have boundthemselves solemnly to protect that neutrality. I learned that inschool, and so did you. "

"Yes, " sighed Father Van Hove. "I learned it too, and surely no nationcan have anything against us! We have given no one cause for complaintthat I know of. "

"It's nonsense, " said his wife with decision. "Belgium is safe enoughso far as that goes, but one certainly has to work hard here just tomake ends meet and get food for all the hungry mouths! They say it isdifferent in America; there you work less and get more, and are fartheraway from meddlesome neighboring countries besides. I sometimes wish wehad gone there with my sister. She and her husband started with no morethan we have, and now they are rich--at least they were when I lastheard from them; but that was a long time ago, " she finished. 

"Well, " said Father Van Hove, as he stood up and knocked the ashes fromhis pipe, "it may be that they have more money and less work, but I'velived here in this spot ever since I was born, and my father before me. Somehow I feel I could never take root in any other soil. I'm contentwith things as they are. "

"So am I, for the matter of that, " said Mother Van Hove cheerfully, asshe put Fidel outside and shut the door for the night. Then, taking thecandle from the chimney-piece once more, she led the way to the innerroom, where the twins were already soundly sleeping. 

III

THE ALARM

For some time the little village of Meer slept quietly in themoonlight. There was not a sound to break the stillness, except oncewhen Mother Van Hove's old rooster caught a glimpse of the waning moonthrough the window of the chicken-house, and crowed lustily, thinkingit was the sun. The other roosters of the village, wiser than he, madeno response to his call, and in a moment he, too, returned to hisinterrupted slumbers. But though there was as yet no sound to tell oftheir approach, the moon looked down upon three horsemen galloping overthe yellow ribbon of road from Malines toward the little village. Soonthe sound of the horses' hoofs beating upon the hardened earth throbbedthrough the village itself, and Fidel sat up on the kitchen doorstep, pricked up his ears, and listened. He heard the hoof-beats and awakenedthe echoes with a sharp bark. 

Mother Van Hove sat up in bed and listened; another dog barked, andanother, and now she, too, heard the hoof-beats. Nearer they came, andnearer, and now she could hear a voice shouting. She shook her husband. "Wake up!" she whispered in his ear, "something is wrong! Fidel barks, and I hear strange noises about. Wake up!"

"Fidel is crazy, " said Father Van Hove sleepily. "He thinks some weaselis after the chickens very likely. Fidel will attend to it. Go tosleep. "

He sank back again upon his pillows, but his wife seized his arm andpulled him up. 

"Listen!" she said. "Oh, listen! Weasels do not ride on horseback!There are hoof-beats on the road!"

"Some neighbor returning late from Malines, " said Father Van Hove, yawning. "It does not concern us. "

But his wife was already out of bed, and at the window. The horsemenwere now plainly visible, riding like the wind, and as they whirled bythe houses their shout thrilled through the quiet streets of thevillage: "Burghers, awake! Awake! Awake!"

Wide awake at last, Father Van Hove sprang out of bed and hastily beganputting down his clothes. His wife was already nearly dressed, and hadlighted a candle. Other lights sparkled from the windows of otherhouses. Suddenly the bell in the church-steeple began to ring wildly, as though it, too, were shaken with a sudden terror. "It must be afire, " said Father Van Hove. 

Still fastening her clothing, his wife ran out of the door and lookedabout in every direction. "I see no fire, " she said, "but the villagestreet is full of people running to the square! Hurry! Hurry! We musttake the children with us; they must not be left here alone. "

She ran to wake the children, as she spoke, and, helped by hertrembling fingers, they, too, were soon dressed, and the four rantogether up the road toward the village church. The bell still clangedmadly from the steeple, and the vibrations seemed to shake the veryflesh of the trembling children as they clung to their mother's handsand tried to keep up with their father's rapid strides. 

They found all the village gathered in front of the little town-hall. On its steps stood the Burgomeister and the village priest, and nearthem, still sitting astride his foam-flecked steed, was one of thesoldiers who had brought the alarm. His two companions were already farbeyond Meer, flying over the road to arouse the villages which layfarther to the east. The church-bell suddenly ceased its metallicclatter, and while its deep tones still throbbed through the night air, the wondering and frightened people crowded about the steps inbreathless suspense. 

The Burgomeister raised his hand. Even in the moonlight it could beseen that he was pale. He spoke quickly. "Neighbors, " he said, "thereis bad news! the German army is on our borders! It is necessary forevery man of military age and training to join the colors at once incase the army is needed for defense. There is not a moment to lose. This messenger is from headquarters. He will tell you what you are todo. "

The soldier now spoke for the first time. "Men of Belgium, " he cried, "your services are needed for your country and your King! The men ofMeer are to report at once to the army headquarters at Malines. Do notstop even to change your clothing! We are not yet at war, and our goodKing Albert still hopes to avert it by an armed peace, but theneutrality of Belgium is at stake, and we must be ready to protect itat any cost, and at an instant's notice. Go at once to the Brusselsgate of Malines. An officer will meet you there and tell you what todo. I must ride on to carry the alarm to Putte. " He wheeled his horseas he spoke, and, turning in his saddle, lifted his sword and cried, "Vive le Roi!"

"Vive le Roi! Vive la Belgique!" came in an answering shout from thepeople of Meer, and he was gone. 

There was a moment of stunned silence as he rode away; then a sound ofwomen weeping. The Burgomeister came down from the steps of thetown-hall, said farewell to his wife and children, and took his placeat the head of the little group of men which was already beginning formin marching order. The priest moved about among his people with wordsof comfort. 

Father Van Hove turned to his wife, and to Jan and Marie, who wereclinging to her skirts. "It is only a bad dream, my little ones, " hesaid, patting their heads tenderly; "we shall wake up some day. Andyou, my wife, do not despair! I shall soon return, no doubt! Our goodKing will yet save us from war. You must finish the harvestalone--but--" "Fall in!" cried the voice of the Burgomeister, andFather Van Hove kissed his wife and children and stepped forward. 

Mother Van Hove bravely checked her rising sobs. "We shall go with youto Malines, at any rate, " she said firmly. And as the little group ofmen started forward along the yellow road, she and many more women andchildren of the village marched, away with them in the gray twilightwhich precedes the coming of the dawn. The priest went with his people, praying for them as he walked, in a voice that shook with feeling. 

The sky was red in the east and the larks were already singing over thequiet fields when the men of Meer, followed by their wives andchildren, presented themselves at the Brussels gate of the city. 

IV

"FOR KING, FOR LAW AND LIBERTY"

At the gate they were met by an officer, who at once took command ofthe company. There was only a moment for hasty good-byes before theorder to march was given, and the women and children watched the littlecolumn stride bravely away up the street toward the armory, where theuniforms and arms were kept. They followed at a little distance andtook up their station across the street from the great doors throughwhich the men had disappeared. There was little talking among them. Only the voice of the priest could be heard now and then, as he said afew words to one and another of the waiting women. It was still soearly in the morning that the streets of the city were not yet filledwith people going to work. Only those, like themselves, concerned withthe sad business of war were abroad. 

To Jan and Marie the long wait seemed endless, but at last the doors ofthe armory sprang open; there was a burst of martial music, and a bandplaying the national hymn appeared. "For King, for law and liberty!"thrilled the bugles, and amidst the waving of flags, and the cheers ofthe people, who had now begun to fill the streets, a regiment ofsoldiers marched away toward the north. Jan and Marie stood with theirmother on the edge of the sidewalk, eagerly scanning every face as thesoldiers passed, and at last Jan shouted, "I see Father! I see Father!"

Mother Van Hove lifted her two children high in her arms for him tosee, but Father Van Hove could only smile a brave good-bye as hemarched swiftly past. 

"No tears, my children!" cried the priest; "let them see no tears! Sendthem away with a smile!" And, standing on the edge of the sidewalk, hemade the sign of the cross and raised his hand in blessing, as thetroops went by. 

For a time Mother Van Hove and the children ran along the sidewalk, trying to keep pace with the soldiers, but their quick strides were toomuch for the Twins, and it was not long before Marie said, breathlessly, "My legs are too short! I can't run so fast!"

"I can't too!" gasped Jan. Mother Van Hove stopped short at once, andthe three stood still, hand in hand, and watched the soldiers untilthey turned a corner and disappeared from sight through the Antwerpgate of the city. 

They were quite alone, for the other women and children had gone nofarther than the armory, and were already on their homeward way toMeer. Now for the first time Mother Van Hove gave way to grief, and Janand Marie wept with her; but it was only for a moment. Then she wipedher eyes, and the Twins' too, on her apron, and said firmly: "Come, mylambs! Tears will not bring him back! We must go home now as fast as wecan. There is need there for all that we can do! You must be the man ofthe house now, my Janke, and help me take your father's place on thefarm; and Marie must be our little house-mother. We must be as brave assoldiers, even though we cannot fight. "

"I think I could be braver if I had some breakfast, " sobbed Janke. 

Mother Van Hove struck her hands together in dismay. "I never oncethought of food!" she cried, "and I haven't a red cent with me! Wecannot buy a breakfast! We must just go hungry until we get home! Butsoldiers must often go hungry, my little ones. We must be as brave asthey. Come, now. I will be the captain! Forward march!"

Jan and Marie stiffened their little backs, as she gave the word ofcommand, and, shoulder to shoulder, they marched down the street towardthe city gate to the martial refrain, "Le Roi, la loi, la liberte, "which Mother Van Hove hummed for them under her breath. 

It was a long way back to the little farm-house, and when at last thethree weary pilgrims reached it, they were met by an indignant chorusof protests from all the creatures which had been left behind. Bel waslowing at the pasture bars, the pig was squealing angrily in her pen, the rooster had crowed himself hoarse, and Fidel, patient Fidel, wassitting on guard at the back door. 

Mother Van Hove flew into the kitchen the moment she reached the house, and in two minutes Jan and Marie were seated before a breakfast ofbread and milk. Then she fed the pig, let out the hens, and gave Fidela bone which she had saved for him from the soup. Last of all, shemilked the cow, and when this was done, and she had had a cup of coffeeherself, the clock in the steeple struck twelve. 

Even Mother Van Hove's strength was not equal to work in theharvest-field that day, but she stowed the load of wheat which had beenbrought home the night before in the barn, and, after the chores weredone at night, she and the Twins went straight to bed and slept as onlythe very weary can, until the sun streamed into their windows in themorning. 

V

DOING A MAN'S WORK

When Jan and Marie awoke, their mother's bed was empty. "She's gone tomilk the cow, " cried Marie. "Come, Jan, we will surprise her! When shecomes back from the pasture, we will have breakfast all ready. "

"You can, " said Jan, as he struggled into his clothes, and twistedhimself nearly in two trying to do up the buttons in the back; "youcan, but I must do a man's work! I will go out and feed the pig andcatch old Pier and hitch him to the cart, " he said importantly. "I mustfinish the wheat harvest to-day. "

"Ho!" said Marie. "You will spill the pig-feed all over yourself! Youare such a messy boy!"

"I guess I can do it just as well as you can make coffee, " said Janwith spirit. "You've never made coffee in your life!"

"I've watched Mother do it lots of times, " said Marie. "I'm sure I cando it just the same way. "

"All right, let's see you do it, then, " said Jan. And he strode out ofthe room with his hands in his pockets, taking as long steps as hisshort legs would permit. 

When she was dressed and washed, Marie ran to the pump and filled thekettle. Then she stirred the embers of the fire in the kitchen and puton fresh coal. She set the kettle on to boil and only slopped a littlewater on her apron in doing so. Then she put the dishes on the table. 

Meanwhile she heard no sound from Jan. She went to the kitchen door andlooked out. Jan had already let out the fowls, and was just in the actof feeding the pig. He had climbed up on the fence around the pig-pen, and by dint of great effort had succeeded in lifting the heavy pail offeed to the top of it. He was now trying to let it down on the otherside and pour the contents into the trough, but the pig was greedy, andthe moment the pail came within reach, she stuck her nose and her forefeet into it. This added weight was too much for poor Jan; down wentthe pail with a crash into the trough, and Jan himself tumbled suddenlyforward, his feet flew out behind, and he was left hanging head down, like a jack knife, over the fence!

It was just at this moment that Marie came to the door, and when shesaw Jan balancing on the fence and kicking out wildly with his feet, she screamed with laughter. 

Jan was screaming, too, but with pain and indignation. "Come here andpick me off this fence!" he roared. "It's cutting me in two! Oh, Mother! Mother!"

Marie ran to the pigpen as fast as, she could go. She snatched an oldbox by the stable as she ran, and, placing it against the fence, seizedone of Jan's feet, which were still waving wildly in the air, andplanted it firmly on the box. 

"Oh! Oh!" laughed Marie, as Jan reached the ground once more. "If youcould only have seen yourself, Jan! You would have laughed, too!Instead of pouring the pig-feed on to yourself, you poured yourself onto the pig-feed!"

"I don't see anything to laugh at, " said Jan with dignity; "it mighthave happened to any man. "

"Anyway, you'll have to get the pail again, " said Marie, wiping hereyes. "That greedy pig will bang it all to pieces, if you leave it inthe pen. "

"I can't reach it, " said Jan. 

"Yes, you can, " said Marie. "I'll hold your legs so you won't fall in, and you can fish for it with a stick. " She ran for a stick to pokewith, while Jan bravely mounted the box again, and, firmly anchored byMarie's grasp upon his legs, he soon succeeded in rescuing the pail. 

"Anyway, I guess I've fed the pig just as well as you have made thecoffee, " he said, as he handed it over to Marie. 

"Oh, my sakes!" cried Marie; "I forgot all about the coffee!" And sheran back to the kitchen, to find that the kettle had boiled over andput the fire out. 

Jan stuck hid head in the door, just as she got the bellows to startthe fire again. "What did I tell you!" he shouted, running out histongue derisively. 

"Scat!" said Marie, shaking the bellows at him, and Jan sauntered awaytoward the pasture with Pier's halter over his arm. 

Pier had been eating grass for two nights and a day without doing anywork, and it took Jan some time to catch him and put the halter overhis head. When at last he returned from the pasture, red and tired, buttriumphant, leading Pier, Marie and her mother had already finishedtheir breakfast. 

"Look what a man we have!" cried Mother Van Hove as Jan appeared. "Hehas caught Pier all by himself. "

"He lifted me clear off my feet when I put his halter on, " said Janproudly, "but I hung on and he had to come!"

"Marie, " cried her mother, "our Jan has earned a good breakfast! Cookan egg for him, while I hitch Pier to the cart. Then, while he and Iwork in the field, you can put the house in order. There is only onemore load to bring in, and we can do that by ourselves. "

By noon the last of the wheat had been garnered, and this time Jandrove Pier home, while his mother sat on the load. In the afternoon thethree unloaded the wagon and stowed the grain away in the barn to bethreshed; and when the long day's work was over, and they had eatentheir simple supper of bread and milk, Mother Van Hove and the childrenwent together down the village street to see their neighbors and hearthe news, if there should be any. 

There were no daily papers in Meer, and now there were no young men togo to the city and bring back the gossip of the day, as there had usedto be. The women, with their babies on their arms, stood about in thestreet, talking quietly and sadly among themselves. On the doorsteps afew old men lingered together over their pipes. Already the bigger boyswere playing soldier, with paper caps on their heads, and sticks forguns. The smaller children were shouting and chasing each other throughthe little street of the village. Jan and Marie joined in a game ofblindman's buff, while Mother Van Hove stopped with the group of women. 

"If we only knew what to expect!" sighed the Burgomeister's wife, asshe shifted her baby from one arm to the other. "It seems as if weshould know better what to do. In a day or two I shall send my big boyLeon to the city for a paper. It is hard to wait quietly and knownothing. "

"Our good King and Queen doubtless know everything, " said the wife ofBoer Maes. "They will do better for us than we could do for ourselves, even if we knew all that they do. "

"And there are our own brave men, besides, " added Mother Van Hove. "Wemust not forget them! We are not yet at war. I pray God we may not be, and that we shall soon see them come marching home again to tell usthat the trouble, whatever it is, is over, and that we may go on livingin peace as we did before. "

"It seems a year since yesterday, " said the Burgomeister's wife. 

"Work makes the time pass quickly, " said Mother Van Hove cheerfully. "Jan and I got in the last of our wheat to-day. He helped me like aman. "

"Who will thresh it for you?" asked the wife of Boer Maes. 

"I will thresh it myself, if need be, " said Mother Van Hove withspirit. "My good man shall not come home and find the farm-work behindif I can help it. " And with these brave words she said good-night tothe other women, called Jan and Marie, and turned once more down thestreet toward the little house on the edge of the village. Far acrossthe peaceful twilight fields came the sound of distant bells. "Hark!"said Mother Van Hove to the Twins--"the cathedral bells of Malines! Andthey are playing 'The Lion of Flanders!'"

(three lines of music)

sang the bells, and, standing upon the threshold of her little home, with head held proudly erect, Mother Van Hove lifted her voice andjoined the words to the melody. "They will never conquer him, the oldLion of Flanders, so long as he has claws!" she sang, and the Twins, looking up into her brave and inspired face, sang too. 

VI

AT THE CHURCH

Several days passed quietly by in the little village of Meer. The sunshone, and the wind blew, and the rains fell upon the peaceful fields, just as if nothing whatever had happened. Each day was filled to thebrim with hard work. With the help of the Twins, Mother Van Hove keptthe garden free of weeds and took care of the stock. She even threshedthe wheat herself with her husband's flail, and stored the grain awayin sacks ready for the mill. Each evening, when the work was done, thethree went down the village street together. One evening, just at dusk, they found nearly the whole village gathered in front of the priest'shouse next to the church. Leon, the Burgomeister's oldest boy, had beento Malines that day and had brought back a paper. 

The priest was reading from it to the anxious group gathered about him. "Oh, my children, " he was saying, as Mother Van Hove and the Twinsjoined the group, "there is, no doubt, need for courage, but where isthere a Belgian lacking in that? Even Julius Caesar, two thousand yearsago, found that out! The bravest of all are the Belgians, he said then, and it is none the less true to-day! The Germans have crossed oureastern frontier. It is reported that they are already burning townsand killing the inhabitants if they resist. God knows what may bebefore us. Our good King Albert has asked Parliament to refuse thedemands of the Germans. In spite of their solemn treaty with us, theydemand that we permit them to cross Belgium to attack France. To thisour brave King and Parliament will never consent; no true Belgian wouldwish them to. There is, then, this choice either to submit absolutelyto the invasion of our country, or to defend it! The army is already inthe field. "

There was a moment of heavy silence as he finished speaking. Then thevoice of the Burgomeister's wife was heard in the stillness. "Oh, Mynheer Pastoor, " she said to the priest, "what shall we do? There isno place to go to we have no refuge!"

"God is our refuge and strength, my children, " said the priest, liftinghis eyes to heaven. "We have no other! You must stay here, and if theterrible Germans come, hide yourselves away as best you can, until theyhave passed by. Do not anger them by resisting. Bow your heads to thestorm and have faith in God that it may soon pass over. " He turned andled the way toward the little church as he spoke. "Come, " he said, "letus pray before God's holy altar, and if the enemy comes, seek refuge inthe church itself. Surely even the Germans will respect the sanctuary. "

Solemnly the people filed into the little church, lighted only by thecandles on the altar, and knelt upon the hard floor. The priest leftthem there, praying silently, while he went to put on the robes of hisoffices. Then once more he appeared before the altar, and led thekneeling congregation in the litany. 

"From war and pestilence and sudden death, Good Lord, deliver us, " heprayed at last, and all the people responded with a fervent "Amen. "

That night, when she put her children to bed, Mother Van Hove fasteneda chain with a locket upon it about Marie's neck. "Listen, ma Mie, " shesaid, "and you, too, my little Jan. God only knows what may be beforeus. This locket contains my picture. You must wear it always about yourneck, and remember that your mother's name is Leonie Van Hove, and yourfather's name is Georges Van Hove. If by any chance--which Godforbid--we should become separated from one another, keep the locket onyour neck, and our names in your memory until we meet again; for ifsuch a thing should happen, do not doubt that I should find you, thoughI had to swim the sea to do it! For you, my Jan, I have no locket, butyou are a man, a brave man, now! You must take care of yourself andyour sister, too, if need should arise, and above all, rememberthis--only the brave are safe. Whatever happens, you must remember thatyou are Belgians, and be brave!"

The children clung to her, weeping, as she finished. "There, there, "she said soothingly: "I had to tell you this so you would be ready todo your best and not despair, whatever might happen, but be sure, mylambs, nothing shall harm you if I can help it, and nothing shallseparate us from one another if God so wills. Now, go to sleep!"

She kissed them tenderly, and, quite comforted, they nestled down intheir beds and soon were asleep. She herself slept but little thatnight. Long after the children were quiet, she sat alone on the kitchenstep in the darkness with Fidel by her side, and listened to the faintsounds of distant guns, and watched the red light in the sky, whichtold her of the burning of Louvain. 

VII

THE TIDAL WAVE OF GERMANS

The next morning dawned bright and clear, and Mother Van Hove and theTwins went about their work as usual. The sunshine was so bright, andthe whole countryside looked so peaceful and fair, it was impossible tobelieve that the terrors of the night could be true. 

"To-day we must begin to gather the potatoes, " said Mother Van Hoveafter breakfast. "Jan, you get the fork and hoe and put them in thewagon, while I milk the cow and Marie puts up some bread and cheese forus to take to the field. " She started across the road to the pasture, with Fidel at her heels, as she spoke. In an instant she was backagain, her eyes wide with horror. "Look! Look!" she cried. 

The dazed children looked toward the east as she pointed. There in thedistance, advancing like a great tidal wave, was a long gray line ofsoldiers on horseback. Already they could hear the sound of music andthe throb of drums; already the sun glistened upon the shining helmetsand the cruel points of bayonets. The host stretched away across theplain as far as the eye could reach, and behind them the sky was thickwith the smoke of fires. 

"The church! the church!" cried Mother Van Hove. "No, there is nottime. Hide in here, my darlings. Quickly! Quickly!"

She tore open the door of the earth-covered vegetable cellar as shespoke, and thrust Jan and Marie inside. Fidel bolted in after them. "Donot move or make a sound until all is quiet again, " she cried as sheclosed the door. 

There was not room for her too, in the cellar, and if there had been, Mother Van Hove would not have taken it, for it was necessary to closethe door from the outside. This she did, hastily, throwing some strawbefore it. Then she rushed into the house and, snatching up her shiningmilk-pans, flung them upon the straw, as if they were placed there tobe sweetened by the sun. No one would think to look under a pile ofpans for hidden Belgians, she felt sure. 

Nearer and nearer came the hosts, and now she could hear the sound ofsinging as from ten thousand brazen throats, "Deutschland, Deutschlanduber Alles, " roared the mighty chorus, and in another moment the littlevillage of Meer was submerged in the terrible gray flood. 

At last, after what seemed to the imprisoned children like a year ofdarkness and dread, and of strange, terrifying noises of all kinds, thesound of horses' hoofs and marching feet died away in the distance, andJan ventured to push open the door of the cavern a crack, justintending to peep out. Immediately there was a crash of fallingtinware. Jan quickly drew back again into the safe darkness and waited. As nothing further happened, he peeped out again. This time Fidel, springing forward, flung the doors wide open, and dashed out into thesunshine with a joyous bark. 

In a moment more Jan and Marie also crawled out of their hiding-placeafter him. For an instant, as they came out into the daylight, itseemed to the children as if they had awakened from a dreadful dream. There stood the farmhouse just as before, with the kitchen door wideopen and the sun streaming in upon the sanded floor. There were onlythe marks of many feet in the soft earth of the farmyard, an emptypigpen, and a few chicken feathers blowing about the hen house, to showwhere the invaders had been and what they had carried away with them. Jan and Marie, followed by Fidel, ran through the house. From the frontdoor, which opened on the road; they could see the long gray linesweeping across the fields toward Malines. 

"The storm has passed, " cried Marie, sobbing with grief, "just asMynheer Pastoor said it would! Mother! Mother, where are you?" They ranfrom kitchen to bedroom and back again, their terror increasing atevery step, as no voice answered their call. They searched the cellarand the loft; they looked in the stable and barn, and even in thedog-house. Their mother was nowhere to be found!

"I know where she must be, " cried Jan, at last. "You know MynheerPastoor said, if anything happened, we should hide in the church. " Ledby this hope, the two children sped, hand in hand, toward the village. "Bel is gone!" gasped Jan, as they passed the pasture bars. "Pier, too, " sobbed Marie. Down the whole length of the deserted villagestreet they flew, with Fidel following close at their heels. When theycame to the little church, they burst open the door and looked in. Thecheerful sun streamed through the windows, falling in brilliant patchesof light upon the floor, but the church was silent and empty. It wassome time before they could realize that there was not a human beingbut themselves in the entire village; all the others had been drivenaway like sheep, before the invading army. When at last the terribletruth dawned upon them, the two frightened children sat down upon thechurch steps in the silence, and clung, weeping, to each other. Fidelwhined and licked their hands, as though he, too, understood and felttheir loneliness. 

"What shall we do? What shall we do?" moaned Marie. 

"There's nobody to tell us what to do, " sobbed Jan. "We must just dothe best we can by ourselves. "

"We can't stay here alone!" said Marie. 

"But where can we go?" cried Jan. "There's no place for us to go to!"

For a few minutes the two children wept their hearts out in utterdespair, but hope always comes when it is most needed, and soon Marieraised her head and wiped her eyes. 

"Don't you remember what Mother said when she put the locket on myneck, Jan?" she asked. "She said that she would find us, even if shehad to swim the sea! She said no matter what happened we should neverdespair, and here we are despairing as hard as ever we can. "

Jan threw up his chin, and straightened his back. "Yes, " he said, swallowing his sobs, "and she said I was now a man and must take careof myself and you. "

"What shall we do, then?" asked Marie. 

Jan thought hard for a moment. Then he said: "Eat! It must be late, andwe have not had a mouthful to-day. "

Marie stood up. "Yes, " said she; "we must eat. Let us go back home. "

The clock in the steeple struck eleven as the two children ran oncemore through the deserted street and began a search for food in theirempty house. 

They found that the invaders had been as thorough within the house aswithout. Not only had they carried away the grain which their motherhad worked so hard to thresh, but they had cleaned the cupboard aswell. The hungry children found nothing but a few crusts of bread, abit of cheese, and some milk in the cellar, but with these and twoeggs, which Jan knew where to look for in the straw in the barn, theymade an excellent breakfast. They gave Fidel the last of the milk, andthen, much refreshed, made ready to start upon a strange and lonelyjourney the end of which they did not know. They tied their bestclothes in a bundle, which Jan hung upon a stick over his shoulder, andwere just about to leave the house, when Marie cried out, "SupposeMother should come back and find us gone!"

"We must leave word where we have gone, so she will know where to lookfor us, of course, " Jan answered capably. 

"Yes, but how?" persisted Marie. "There's no one to leave word with!"

This was a hard puzzle, but Jan soon found a way out. "We must write anote and pin it up where she would be sure to find it, " he said. 

"The very thing, " said Marie. 

They found a bit of charcoal and a piece of wrapping-paper, and Jan wasall ready to write when a new difficulty presented itself. "What shallI say?" he said to Marie. "We don't know where we are going!"

"We don't know the way to any place but Malines, " said Marie; "so we'llhave to go there, I suppose. "

"How do you spell Malines?" asked Jan, charcoal in hand. 

"Oh, you stupid boy!" cried Marie. "M-a-l-i-n-e-s, of course!"

Jan put the paper down on the kitchen floor and got down before it onhis hands and knees. He had not yet learned to write, but he managed toprint upon it in great staggering letters:--

"DEAR MOTHER

WE HAVE GONE TO MALINES TO FIND YOU. 

JAN AND MARIE. "

This note they pinned upon the inside of the kitchen door. 

"Now we are ready to start, " said Jan; and, calling Fidel, the twochildren set forth. They took a short cut from the house across thepasture to the potato-field. Here they dug a few potatoes, which theyput in their bundle, and then, avoiding the road, slipped down to theriver, and, following the stream, made their way toward Malines. 

It was fortunate for them that, screened by the bushes and trees whichfringed the bank of the river, they saw but little of the ruin anddevastation left in the wake of the German hosts. There were farmerswho had tried to defend their families and homes from the invaders. Burning houses and barns marked the places where they had lived anddied. But the children, thinking only of their lost mother, and ofkeeping themselves as much out of sight as possible in their search forher, were spared most of these horrors. Their progress was slow, forthe bundle was heavy, and the river path less direct than the road, andit was nightfall before the two little waifs, with Fidel at theirheels, reached the well-remembered Brussels gate. 

Their hearts almost stopped beating when they found it guarded by aGerman soldier. "Who goes there?" demanded the guard gruffly, as hecaught sight of the little figures. 

"If you please, sir, it's Jan and Marie, " said Jan, shaking in hisboots. 

"And Fidel, too, " said Marie. 

The soldier bent down and looked closely at the two tear-stained littlefaces. It may be that some remembrance of other little faces stirredwithin him, for he only said stiffly, "Pass, Jan and Marie, and you, too, Fidel. " And the two children and the dog hurried through the gateand up the first street they came to, their bundle bumping along behindthem as they ran. 

The city seemed strangely silent and deserted, except for the gray-cladsoldiers, and armed guards blocked the way at intervals. Taught byfear, Jan and Marie soon learned to slip quietly along under cover ofthe gathering darkness, and to dodge into a doorway or round a corner, when they came too near one of the stiff, helmeted figures. 

At last, after an hour of aimless wandering, they found themselves in alarge, open square, looking up at the tall cathedral spires. A Germansoldier came suddenly out of the shadows, and the frightened children, scarcely knowing what they did, ran up the cathedral steps and flungthemselves against the door. When the soldier had passed by, theyreached cautiously up, and by dint of pulling with their unitedstrength succeeded at last in getting the door open. They thrust theirbundle inside, pushed Fidel in after it, and then slipped throughthemselves. The great door closed behind them on silent hinges and theywere alone in the vast stillness of the cathedral. Timidly they crepttoward the lights of the altar, and, utterly exhausted, slept thatnight on the floor near the statue of the Madonna, with their headspillowed on Fidel's shaggy side. 

VIII

GRANNY AND THE EELS

When the cathedral bells rang the next morning for early mass, thechildren were still sleeping the sleep of utter exhaustion. It was notuntil the bells had ceased to ring, and the door, opening from thesacristy near their resting place, creaked upon its hinges, that evenFidel was aroused. True to his watchdog instincts, he started to hisfeet with a low growl, letting the heads of Jan and Marie down upon thefloor with a sudden bump. For an instant the awakened children couldnot remember where they were or what had happened to them. They sat upand rubbed their heads, but the habit of fear was already so strongupon them that they made no sound and instantly quieted Fidel. Againthe door creaked, and through it there appeared a tall figure dressedin priestly robes. The children were so near that had they thrust theirhands through the railing of the communion bank behind which they wereconcealed, they might have touched him as he passed before the altar ofthe Virgin and presented himself in front of the high altar to conductthe mass. His head, as he passed them, was bowed. His face was pale andthin, and marked with lines of deep sorrow. 

"Oh, " whispered Marie to Jan, "it must be the Cardinal himself. Mothertold me about him. "

The whisper made such a loud sound in the silence of the greatcathedral aisles that Jan was afraid to reply. For answer he only laidhis finger upon his lips and crept still farther back into the shadow. Fidel seemed to know that dogs were not allowed in church and that itwas necessary for him to be quiet, too, for he crawled back with thechildren into the sheltering darkness. 

There were only a few persons in the cathedral, and those few were nearthe door; so no one saw the children as they knelt with folded handsand bowed heads in their corner, reverently following the service asthe Cardinal ate the sacred wafer and drank the communion wine beforethe altar. Later they were to know his face as the bravest and bestbeloved in all Belgium next to those of the King and Queen themselves. 

When again he passed the kneeling little figures on his return to thesacristy, their lonely hearts so ached for care and protection, and hisface looked so kind and pitiful, that they almost dared to make theirpresence known and to ask for the help they sorely needed. Marie, bolder than Jan, half rose as he passed, but Jan pulled her back, andin another instant the door had closed behind him and he was gone. 

"Oh, " sobbed Marie under her breath, "he looked so kind! He might havehelped us. Why did you pull me back?"

"How could we let him see Fidel, and tell him that our dog had sleptall night before the altar?" answered Jan. "I shouldn't dare! He is agreat Prince of the Church!"

The sound of scraping chairs told them that the little congregation hadrisen from its knees and was passing out of the church. They waiteduntil every one had disappeared through the great door, and then made aswift flight down the echoing aisle and out into the sunlight. For amoment they stood hand in hand upon the cathedral steps, clasping theirbundle and waiting for the next turn of fortune's wheel. 

The bright sunlight of the summer day, shining on the open square, almost blinded them, and what they saw in the square, when their eyeshad become used to it, did not comfort them. Everywhere there wereGerman soldiers with their terrible bayonets and pointed helmets andtheir terrible songs. Everywhere there were pale and desperate Belgiansfleeing before the arrogant German invader. 

"Oh, Jan, " whispered Marie clinging to him, "there are so many people!How shall we ever find Mother? I didn't know there were so many peoplein the whole world. "

"It isn't likely that we'll find her by just standing here, anyway, "answered Jan. "We've got to keep going till we get somewhere. "

He slung the bundle on his shoulder and whistled to Fidel, who had gonedown the steps to bark at a homeless cat. 

"Come along, " he said to Marie. And once more the little pilgrims tookup their journey. At the first corner they paused, not knowing whetherto go to the right or to the left. 

"Which way?" said Marie. 

Jan stood still and looked first in one direction and then in the other. 

"Here, gutter-snipes, what are you standing here for? Make way for yourbetters!" said a gruff voice behind them, and, turning, the childrenfound themselves face to face with a German officer dressed in aresplendent uniform and accompanied by a group of swaggering youngsoldiers. Too frightened to move, the children only looked up at himand did not stir. 

"Get out of the way, I tell you!" roared the officer, turning purplewith rage; "Orderly!" One of the young men sprang forward. He seizedJan by the arm and deftly kicked him into the gutter. Another at thesame moment laid his hands on Marie. But he reckoned without Fidel, faithful Fidel, who knew no difference between German and Belgian, butknew only that no cruel hand should touch his beloved Marie, while hewas there to defend her. With a fierce growl he sprang at the youngorderly and buried his teeth in his leg. Howling with pain, the orderlydropped Marie, while another soldier drew his sword with an oath andmade a thrust at Fidel. Fortunately Fidel was too quick for him. He letgo his hold upon the leg of the orderly, tearing a large hole in hisuniform as he did so, and flung himself directly between the legs ofthe other soldier who was lunging at him with the sword. The nextinstant the surprised German found himself sprawling upon the sidewalk, and saw Fidel, who had escaped without a scratch, dashing wildly up thestreet after Jan and Marie. Beside himself with rage, the soldier drewa revolver and fired a shot, which barely missed Fidel, and burieditself in the doorstep of the house past which he was running. 

If Jan and Marie had not turned a corner just at that moment, and ifFidel had not followed them, there is no telling what might havehappened next, for the young soldier was very angry indeed. Perhaps heconsidered it beneath his dignity to run after them, and perhaps he sawthat Jan and Marie could both run like the wind and he would not belikely to catch them if he did. At any rate, he did not follow. Hepicked himself up and dusted his clothes, using very bad language as hedid so, and followed the officer and his companions up the street. 

Meanwhile the tired children ran on and on, fear lending speed to theirweary legs. Round behind the great cathedral they sped, hoping to findsome way of escape from the terrors of the town, but their way wasblocked by the smoking ruins of a section of the city which the Germanshad burned in the night, and there was no way to get out in thatdirection. Terrified and faint with hunger, they turned once more, and, not knowing where they were going, stumbled at last upon the streetwhich led to the Antwerp gate. 

"I remember this place;" cried Jan, with something like joy in hisvoice. "Don't you remember, Marie? It's where we stood to watch thesoldiers, and Mother sang for us to march, because we were so tired andhungry. "

"I'm tired and hungry now, too, " said poor Marie. 

"Let's march again, " said Jan. 

"Where to?" said Marie. 

"That's the way Father went when he marched away with the soldiers, "said Jan, pointing to the Antwerp gate. "Anything is better thanstaying here. Let's go that way. " He started bravely forward once more, Marie and Fidel following. 

They found themselves only two wretched atoms in one of the saddestprocessions in history, for there were many other people, as unhappy asthemselves, who were also trying to escape from the city. Some hadlived in the section which was now burning; others had been turned outof their homes by the Germans; and all were hastening along, carryingbabies and bundles, and followed by groups of older children. 

Jan and Marie were swept along with the hurrying crowd, through thecity gate and beyond, along the river road which led to Antwerp. No onespoke to them. Doubtless they were supposed to belong to some one ofthe fleeing families, and it was at least comforting to the children tobe near people of whom they were not afraid. But Jan and Marie couldnot keep pace with the swift-moving crowd of refugees. They trudgedalong the highway at their best speed, only to find themselvesstraggling farther and farther behind. 

They were half a mile or more beyond the city gate when they overtook aqueer little old woman who was plodding steadily along wheeling awheelbarrow, in front of her. She evidently did not belong among therefugees, for she was making no effort to keep up with them. She hadbright, twinkling black eyes, and snow-white hair tucked under asnow-white cap. Her face was as brown as a nut and full of wrinkles, but it shone with such kindness and good-will that, when Jan and Mariehad taken one look at her, they could not help walking along by herside. 

"Maybe she has seen Mother, " whispered Marie to Jan. "Let's ask her!"

The little old woman smiled down at them as they joined her. "You'llhave to hurry, my dears, or you won't keep up with your folks, " shesaid kindly. 

"They aren't our folks, " said Jan. 

"They aren't?" said the little old woman, stopping short. "Then whereare your folks?"

"We haven't any, not just now, " said Jan. "You see our father is asoldier, and our mother, oh, have you seen our mother? She's lost!"

The little old woman gave them a quick, pitying glance. "Lost, is she?"she said. "Well, now, I can't just be sure whether I've seen her ornot, not knowing what she looks like, but I wouldn't say I haven't. Lots of folks have passed this way. How did she get lost?" She sat downon the edge of the barrow and drew the children to her side. "Come, now, " she said, "tell Granny all about it! I've seen more trouble thanany one you ever saw in all your life before, and I'm not a mite afraidof it either. "

Comforted already, the children poured forth their story. 

"You poor little lambs!" she cried, when they had finished, "and youhaven't had a bite to eat since yesterday! Mercy on us! You can neverfind your mother on an empty stomach!" She rose from the wheelbarrow, as she spoke, and trundled it swiftly from the road to the bank of theriver, a short distance away. Here, in a sheltered nook, hidden fromthe highway by a group of willows, she stopped. "We'll camp right here, and I'll get you a dinner fit for a king or a duke, at the very least, "she said cheerily. "Look what I have in my wheelbarrow!" She took abasket from the top of it as she spoke. 

Fidel was already looking in, with his tail standing straight outbehind, his ears pointed forward, and the hairs bristling on the backof his neck. There, on some clean white sand in the bottom of thewheelbarrow, wriggled a fine fat eel!

"Now I know why I didn't sell that eel, " cried Granny. "There's alwaysa reason for everything, you see, my darlings. "

She seized the eel with a firm, well-sanded hand as she spoke, andbefore could spell your name backwards, she had skinned and dressed it, and had given the remnants to poor hungry Fidel. "Now, my boy, " shesaid gayly to Jan as she worked, "you get together some twigs and deadleaves, and you, Big Eyes, " she added to Marie, "find some stones bythe river, and we'll soon have such a stove as you never saw before, and a fire in it, and a bit of fried eel, to fill your hungry stomachs. "

Immensely cheered, the children flew on these errands. Then Marie had abright thought. "We have some potatoes in our bundle, " she said. 

"Well, now, " cried the little old woman, "wouldn't you think they hadjust followed up that eel on purpose? We'll put them to roast in theashes. I always carry a pan and a bit of fat and some matches aboutwith me when I take my eels to market, " she explained as she whiskedthese things out of the basket, "and it often happens that I cookmyself a bite to eat on my way home, especially if I'm late. You see, Ilive a long way from here, just across the river from Boom, and I'mgetting lazy in my old age. Early every morning I walk to Malines withmy barrow full of fine eels, and sell them to the people of the town. That's how I happen to be so rich!"

"Are you rich?" asked Marie wonderingly. 

She had brought the stones from the river, and now she untied herbundle and took out the potatoes. Jan had already heaped a little moundof sticks and twigs near by, and soon the potatoes were cooking in theashes, and a most appetizing smell of frying eel filled the air. 

"Am I rich?" repeated the old woman. She looked surprised that any onecould ask such a question. "Of course I'm rich. Haven't I got two eyesin my head, and a tongue, too, and it's lucky, indeed, that it's thatway about, for if I had but one eye and two tongues, you see foryourself how much less handy that would be! And I've two legs as goodas any one's, and two hands to help myself with! The Kaiser himself hasno more legs and arms than I, and I doubt if he can use them half aswell. Neither has he a stomach the more! And as for his heart" shelooked cautiously around as she spoke "his heart, I'll be bound, is nothalf so good as mine! If it were, he could not find it in it to do allthe cruel things he's doing here. I'm sure of that. "

For a moment the cheerfulness of her face clouded over; but she saw theshadow reflected in the faces of Jan and Marie, and at once spoke moregayly. "Bless you, yes, I'm rich, " she went on; "and so are you! You'vegot all the things that I have and more, too, for you legs and arms areyoung, and you have a mother to look for. Not every one has that, youmay depend! And one of these days you'll find her. Make no doubt ofthat. "

"If we don't, she'll surely find us, anyway, " said Jan. "She said shewould!"

"Indeed and she will, " said the old woman. "Even the Germans couldn'tstop her; so what matter is it, if you both have to look a bit first?It will only make it the better when you find each other again. "

When the potatoes were done, the little old woman raked them out of theashes with a stick, broke them open, sprinkled a bit of salt on themfrom the wonderful basket, and then handed one to each of the children, wrapped in a plantain leaf, so they should not burn their fingers. Apiece of the eel was served to them in the same way, and Granny beamedwith satisfaction as she watched her famished guests. 

"Aren't you going to eat, too?" asked Marie with her mouth full. 

"Bless you, yes, " said Granny. "Every chance I get. You just watch me!"She made a great show of taking a piece of the eel as she spoke, but ifany one had been watching carefully, they would have her slyly put itback again into the pan, and the children never knew that they ate hershare and their own, too. 

When they had eaten every scrap of the eel, and Fidel had finished thebones, the little old woman rose briskly from the bank, washed her panin the river, packed it in her basket again, and led the way up thepath to the highway once more. Although they found the road stillfilled with the flying refugees, the world had grown suddenly brighterto Jan and Marie. They had found a friend and they were fed. 

"Now, you come along home with your Granny, " said the little old womanas they reached the Antwerp road and turned northward, "for I live in alittle house by the river right on the way to wherever you want to go!"

IX

OFF FOR ANTWERP

For several days the children stayed with the little old woman in hertiny cottage on the edge of the river. Each morning they crossed thebridge and stationed themselves by the Antwerp road to watch the swarmof sad-faced Belgians as they hurried through Boom on their way to thefrontier and to safety in Holland. Each day they hoped that before thesun went down they should see their mother among the hurryingmultitudes, but each day brought a fresh disappointment, and each nightthe little old woman comforted them with fresh hope for the morrow. 

"You see, my darlings, " said she, "it may take a long time and you mayhave to go a long way first, but I feel in my bones that you will findher at last. And of course, if you do, every step you take is a steptoward her, no matter how far round you go. "

Jan and Marie believed every word that Granny said. How could they helpit when she had been so good to them! Her courage and faith seemed tomake an isle of safety about her where the children rested in perfecttrust. They saw that neither guns nor Germans nor any other terrorcould frighten Granny. In the midst of a thousand alarms she calmlywent her accustomed way, and every one who met her was the better for aglimpse of the brave little brown face under its snowy cap. Early eachmorning she rose with the larks, covered the bottom of her barrow withclean white sand, and placed in it the live eels which had been caughtfor her and brought to the door by small boys who lived in theneighborhood. Then, when she had wakened the Twins, and the three hadhad their breakfast together, away she would trudge over the long, dusty road to Malines, wheeling the barrow with its squirming freightin front of her. 

Jan and Marie helped her all they could. They washed the dishes andswept the floor of the tiny cottage and made everything tidy and cleanbefore they went to take up their stand beside the Antwerp road. Whenthe shadows grew long in the afternoon, how glad they were to see thesturdy little figure come trudging home again! Then they would run tomeet her, and Jan would take the wheelbarrow from her tired hands andwheel it for her over the bridge to the little cottage under the willowtrees on the other side of the river. 

Then Marie's work was to clean the barrow, while Jan pulled weeds inthe tiny garden back of the house, and Granny got supper ready. Supper-time was the best of all, for every pleasant evening they ate ata little table out of doors under the willow trees. 

One evening, when supper had been cleared away, they sat theretogether, with Fidel beside them, while Granny told a wonderful taleabout the King of the Eels who lived in a crystal palace at the bottomof the river. 

"You can't quite see the palace, " she said, "because, when you lookright down into it, the water seems muddy. But sometimes, when it isstill, you can see the Upside-Down Country where the King of the Eelslives. There the trees all grow with their heads down and the sky is'way, 'way below the trees. You see the sky might as well be down as upfor the eels. They aren't like us, just obliged to crawl around on theground without ever being able to go up or down at all. The up-abovesky belongs to the birds and the down-below sky belongs to the fishesand eels. And I am not sure but one is just as nice as the other. "

Marie and Jan went to the river, and, getting down on their hands andknees, looked into the water. 

"We can't see a thing!" they cried to Granny. 

"You aren't looking the right way, " she answered. "Look across ittoward the sunset. "

"Oh! Oh!" cried Marie, clasping her hands; "I see it! I see thedown-below sky, and it is all red and gold!"

"I told you so, " replied Granny triumphantly. "Lots of folks can't seea thing in the river but the mud, when, if you look at it the rightway, there is a whole lovely world in it. Now, the palace of the Kingof the Eels is right over in that direction where the color is thereddest. He is very fond of red, is the King of the Eels. His throne isall made of rubies, and he makes the Queen tie red bows on the tails ofall the little eels. "

Jan and Marie were still looking with all their eyes across the stillwater toward the sunset and trying to see the crystal palace of theeels, when suddenly from behind them there came a loud "Hee-haw, hee-haw. " They jumped, and Granny jumped, too, and they all lookedaround to see where the sound came from. There, coming slowly towardthem along the tow-path on the river-bank, was an old brown mule. Shewas pulling a low, green river-boat by a towline, and a small boy, notmuch bigger than Jan, was driving her. On the deck of the boat therewas a little cabin with white curtains in the tiny windows and two redgeraniums in pots standing on the sills. From a clothesline hitched tothe rigging there fluttered a row of little shirts, and seated on a boxnear by there was a fat, friendly looking woman with two small childrenplaying by her side. The father of the family was busy with the tiller. 

"There come the De Smets, as sure as you live!" cried Granny, risingfrom the wheelbarrow, where she had been sitting. "I certainly am gladto see them. " And she started at once down the river to meet the boat, with Jan and Marie and Fidel all following. 

"Ship ahoy!" she cried gayly as the boat drew near. The boy who wasdriving the mule grinned shyly. The woman on deck lifted her eyes fromher sewing, smiled, and waved her hand at Granny, while the two littlechildren ran to the edge of the boat; and held out their arms to her. 

"Here we are again, war or no war!" cried Mother De Smet, as the boatcame alongside. Father De Smet left the tiller and threw a rope ashore. "Whoa!" cried the boy driving the mule. The mule stopped with thegreatest willingness, the boy caught the rope and lifted the great loopover a strong post on the river-bank, and the "Old Woman" for that wasthe name of the boat was in port. 

Soon a gangplank was slipped from the boat to the little wooden stepson the bank, and Mother De Smet, with a squirming baby under each arm, came ashore. "I do like to get out on dry land and shake my legs a bitnow and then, " she said cheerfully as she greeted Granny. "On the boatI just sit still and grow fat!"

"I shake my legs for a matter of ten miles every day, " laughed Granny. "That's how I keep my figure!"

Mother De Smet set the babies down on the grass, where they immediatelybegan to tumble about like a pair of puppies, and she and Granny talkedtogether, while the Twins went to watch the work of Father De Smet andthe boy, whose name was Joseph. 

"I don't know whatever the country is coming to, " said Mother De Smetto Granny. "The Germans are everywhere, and they are taking everythingthat they can lay their hands on. I doubt if we ever get our cargo safeto Antwerp this time. We've come for a load of potatoes, but I am verymuch afraid it is going to be our last trip for some time. The countrylooks quiet enough as you see it from the boat, but the things that arehappening in it would chill your blood. "

"Yes, " sighed Granny; "if I would let it, my old heart would break overthe sights that I see every day on my way to Malines. But a brokenheart won't get you anywhere. Maybe a stout heart will. "

"Who are the children you have with you?" asked Mother De Smet. 

Then Granny told her how she had found Jan and Marie, and all the restof the sad story. Mother De Smet wiped her eyes and blew her nose veryhard as she listened. 

"I wouldn't let them wait any longer by the Antwerp road, anyway, " shesaid when Granny had finished. "There is no use in the world in lookingfor their mother to come that way. She was probably driven over theborder long ago. You just leave them with me to-morrow while you go totown. 'Twill cheer them up a bit to play with Joseph and the babies. "

"Well, now, " said Granny, "if that isn't just like your good heart!"

And that is how it happened that, when she trudged off with her barrowthe next morning, the Twins ran down to the boat and spent the dayrolling on the grass with the babies, and helping Father De Smet andJoseph to load the boat with bags of potatoes which had been brought tothe dock in the night by neighboring farmers. 

When Granny came trundling her barrow home in the late afternoon, shefound the children and their new friends already on the best of terms;and that night, after the Twins were in bed, she went aboard the "OldWoman" and talked for a long time with Father and Mother De Smet. Noone will ever know just what they said to each other, but it must bethat they talked about the Twins, for when the children awoke the nextmorning, they found Granny standing beside their bed with their clothesall nicely washed and ironed in her hands. 

"I'm not going to town this morning with my eels, " she said as shepopped them out of bed. "I'm going to stay at home and see you off onyour journey!" She did not tell them that things had grown so terriblein Malines that even she felt it wise to stay away. 

"Our journey!" cried the Twins in astonishment. "What journey?"

"To Antwerp, " cried Granny. "Now, you never thought a chance like thatwould come to you, I'm sure, but some people are born lucky! You seethe De Smets start back today, and they are willing to take you alongwith them!"

"But we don't want to leave you, dear, dear Granny!" cried the Twins, throwing their arms about her neck. 

"And I don't want you to go, either, my lambs, " said Granny; "but, yousee, there are lots of things to think of. In the first place, ofcourse you want to go on hunting for your mother. It may be she hasgone over the border; for the Germans are already in trenches nearAntwerp, and our army is nearer still to Antwerp and in trenches, too. There they stay, Father De Smet says, for all the world, like twotigers, lying ready to spring at each other's throats. He says Antwerpis so strongly fortified that the Germans can never take it, and so itis a better place to be in than here. The De Smets will see that youare left in safe hands, and I'm sure your mother would want you to go. "The children considered this for a moment in silence. 

At last Jan said, "Do you think Father De Smet would let me help drivethe mule?"

"I haven't a doubt of it, " said Granny. 

"But what about Fidel, our dear Fidel?" cried Marie. 

"I tell you what I'll do;" said Granny. "I'll take care of Fidel foryou! You shall leave him here with me until you come back again! Yousee, I really need good company, and since I can't have you, I know youwould be glad to have Fidel stay here to protect me. Then you'll alwaysknow just where he is. "

She hurried the children into their clothes as she talked, gave them agood breakfast, and before they had time to think much about what washappening to them, they had said good-bye to Fidel, who had to be shutin the cottage to keep him from following the boat, and were safelyaboard the "Old Woman" and slowly moving away down the river. Theystood in the stern of the boat, listening to Fidel's wild barks, andwaving their hands, until Granny's kind face was a mere round speck inthe distance. 

X

ON THE TOW-PATH

When they could no longer see Granny, nor hear Fidel, the children satdown on a coil of rope behind the cabin and felt very miserable indeed. Marie was just turning up the corner of her apron to wipe her eyes, andJan was looking at nothing at all and winking very hard, when goodMother De Smet, came by with a baby waddling along on each side of her. She gave the two dismal little faces a quick glance and then saidkindly:

"Jan, you run and see if you can't help Father with the tiller, and, Marie, would you mind playing with the babies while I put on thesoup-kettle and fix the greens for dinner? They are beginning to climbeverywhere now, and I am afraid they will fall overboard if somebodydoesn't watch them every minute!"

Jan clattered at once across the deck to Father De Smet, and Mariegladly followed his wife to the open space in front of the cabin wherethe babies had room to roll about. Half an hour later, when Mother DeSmet went back to get some potatoes for the soup, she found Jan proudlysteering the boat by himself. 

"Oh, my soul!" she cried in astonishment. "What a clever boy you mustbe to learn so quickly to handle the tiller. Where is Father De Smet?"

"Here!" boomed a loud voice behind her, and Father De Smet's headappeared above a barrel on the other side of the deck. "I'm trying tomake the 'Old Woman' look as if she had no cargo aboard. If the Germanssee these potatoes, they'll never let us get them to Antwerp, " heshouted. 

"Sh-h-h! You mustn't talk so loud, " whispered Mother De Smet. "You roarlike a foghorn on a dark night. The Germans won't have any trouble infinding out about the potatoes if you shout the news all over thelandscape. "

Father De Smet looked out over the quiet Belgian fields. 

"There's nobody about that I can see, " he said, "but I'll roar moregently next time. "

There was a bend in the river just at this point, and Jan, lookingfearfully about to see if he could see any Germans, for an instantforgot all about the tiller. There was a jerk on the tow-rope and abump as the nose of the "Old Woman" ran into the river-bank. Netteke, the mule, came to a sudden stop, and Mother De Smet sat down equallysuddenly on a coil of rope. Her potatoes spilled over the deck, while awail from the front of the boat announced that one of the babies hadbumped, too. Mother De Smet picked herself up and ran to see what wasthe matter with the baby, while Father De Smet seized a long pole andhurried forward. Joseph left the mule to browse upon the grass besidethe tow-path and ran back to the boat. His father threw him a polewhich was kept for such emergencies, and they both pushed. Josephpushed on the boat and his father pushed against the river-bank. Meanwhile poor Jan stood wretchedly by the tiller knowing that hiscarelessness had caused the trouble, yet not knowing what to do to help. 

"Never mind, son, " said Mother De Smet kindly, when she came back forher potatoes and saw his downcast face. "It isn't the first time the'Old Woman' has stuck her nose in the mud, and with older people thanyou at the tiller, too! We'll soon have her off again and no harm done. "

The boat gave a little lurch toward the middle of the stream. 

"Look alive there, Mate!" sang out Father De Smet. "Hard aport with thetiller! Head her out into the stream!"

Joseph flung his pole to his father and rushed back to Netteke, pulledher patient nose out of a delicious bunch of thistles and started herup the tow-path. Jan sprang to the tiller, and soon the "Old Woman" wasonce more gliding smoothly over the quiet water toward Antwerp. 

When Father De Smet came back to the stern of the boat, Jan expected ascolding, but perhaps it seemed to the good-natured skipper that Janhad troubles enough already, for he only said mildly, "Stick to yourjob, son, whatever it is, " and went on covering his potatoes with emptyboxes and pieces of sailcloth. Jan paid such strict attention to thetiller after that that he did not even forget when Father De Smetpointed out a burning farmhouse a mile or so from the river and saidgrimly, "The Germans are amusing themselves again. "

For the most part, however, the countryside seemed so quiet andpeaceful that it was hard to believe that such dreadful things weregoing on all about them. While Father De Smet's eyes, under their bushybrows, kept close watch in every direction, he said little about hisfears and went on his way exactly as he had done before the invasion. 

It was quite early in the morning when they left Boom, and by teno'clock Joseph was tired of trudging along beside Netteke. He hailedhis father. 

"May I come aboard now?" he shouted. 

Father De Smet looked at Jan. 

"Would you like to drive the mule awhile?" he asked. 

"Oh, wouldn't I!" cried Jan. 

"Have you ever driven a mule before?" Father De Smet asked again. 

"Not a mule, exactly, " Jail replied, "but I drove old Pier up from thefield with a load of wheat all by myself. Mother sat on the load. "

"Come along!" shouted Father De Smet to Joseph, and in a moment thegangplank was out and Jan and Joseph had changed places. 

"May I go, too?" asked Marie timidly of Father De Smet as he was aboutto draw in the plank. "The babies are both asleep and I have nothing todo. "

Father De Smet took a careful look in every direction. It was level, open country all about them, dotted here and there with farmhouses, andin the distance the spire of a village church rose above the clusteringhouses and pointed to the sky. 

"Yes, yes, child. Go ahead, " said Father De Smet. "Only don't get toonear Netteke's hind legs. She doesn't know you very well and sometimesshe forgets her manners. "

Marie skipped over the gangplank and ran along the tow-path to Jan, whoalready had taken up Netteke's reins and was waiting for the signal tostart. Joseph took his place at the tiller, and again the "Old Woman"moved slowly down the stream. 

For some time Jan and Marie plodded along with Netteke. At first theythought it good fun, but by and by, as the sun grew hot, driving a muleon a tow-path did not seem quite so pleasant a task as they had thoughtit would be. 

"I'm tired of this, " said Jan at last to Marie. "That mule is so slowthat I have to sight her by something to be sure that she is moving atall! I've been measuring by that farmhouse across the river for a longtime, and she hasn't crawled up to it yet! I shouldn't wonder if she'dgo to sleep some day and fall into the river and never wake up! Why, Iam almost asleep myself. "

"She'll wake up fast enough when it's time to eat, and so will you, "said Marie, with profound wisdom. 

"Let 's see if we can't make her go a little faster, anyway, " said Jan, ignoring Marie's remark. "I know what I'll do, " he went on, chuckling;"I'll get some burrs and stick them in her tail, and then every timeshe slaps the flies off she'll make herself go faster. "

Marie seized Jan's arm. 

"You'll do nothing of the kind!" she cried. "Father De Smet told meespecially to keep away from Netteke's hind legs. "

"Pooh!" said Jan; "he didn't tell me that. I'm not afraid of any mulealive. I guess if I can harness a horse and drive home a load of grainfrom the field, there isn't much I can't do with a mule!" To prove hiswords he shouted "U--U" at Netteke and slapped her flank with a longbranch of willow. 

Now, Netteke was a proud mule and she wasn't used to being slapped. Father De Smet knew her ways, and knew also that her steady, even, slowpace was better in the long run than to attempt to force a liveliergait, and Netteke was well aware of what was expected of her. Sheresented being interfered with. Instead of going forward at greaterspeed, she put her four feet together, laid back her ears, gave a loud"hee-haw!" and stopped stock-still. 

"U--U!" shouted Jan. In vain! Netteke would not move. Marie held ahandful of fresh grass just out of reach of her mouth. But Netteke wasreally offended. She made no effort to get it. She simply stayed whereshe was. Father De Smet stuck his head over the side of the boat. 

"What is the matter?" he shouted. 

"Oh, dear!" said Jan to Marie. "I hoped he wouldn't notice that theboat wasn't moving. "

"Netteke has stopped. She won't go at all. I think she's run down!"Marie called back. 

"Try coaxing her, " cried the skipper. "Give her something to eat. Holdit in front of her nose. "

"I have, " answered Marie, "but she won't even look at it. "

"Then it's no use, " said Father De Smet mournfully. "She's balked andthat is all there is to it. We'll just have to wait until she is readyto go again. When she has made up her mind she is as difficult topersuade as a setting hen. "

Mother De Smet's head appeared beside her husband's over the boat-rail. 

"Oh, dear!" said she; "I hoped we should get to the other side of theline before dark, but if Netteke's set, she's set, and we must justmake the best of it. It's lucky it's dinner-time. We'll eat, and maybeby the time we are through she'll be willing to start. " Father De Smettossed a bucket on to the grass. 

"Give her a good drink, " he said, "and come aboard yourselves. "

Jan filled the bucket from the river and set it down before Netteke, but she was in no mood for blandishments. She kept her ears back andwould not touch the water. 

"All right, then, Crosspatch, " said Jan. Leaving the pail in front ofher, he went back to the boat. The gangplank was put out, and he andMarie went on board. They found dinner ready in the tiny cabin, andbecause it was so small and stuffy, and there were too many of them, anyway, to get into it comfortably, they each took a bowl of soup asMother De Smet handed it to them and sat down on the deck in front ofthe cabin to eat it. It was not until the middle of the afternoon thatNetteke forgot her injuries, consented to eat and drink, and indicatedher willingness to move on toward Antwerp. 

XI

THE ATTACK

Joseph and his father were both on the tow-path when at last Nettekedecided to move. As she set her ears forward and took the first step, Father De Smet heaved a sigh of relief. 

"Now, why couldn't you have done that long ago, you addlepated oldfool, " he said mildly to Netteke. "You have made no end of trouble forus, and gained nothing for yourself! Now I am afraid we shan't getbeyond the German lines before dark. We may even have to spend thenight in dangerous territory, and all because you're just as mulish as, as a mule, " he finished helplessly. 

Joseph laughed. "Can't you think of anything mulisher than a mule?" hesaid. 

"There isn't a thing, " answered his father. 

"Well, " answered Joseph, "there are a whole lot of other things besidebalky mules in this world that I wish had never been made. There arespiders, and rats, and Germans. They are all pests. I don't see whythey were ever born. "

Father De Smet became serious at once. 

"Son, " he said sternly, "don't ever let me hear you say such a thingagain. There are spiders, and rats, and balky mules, and Germans, andit doesn't do a bit of good to waste words fussing because they arehere. The thing to do is to deal with them!"

Father De Smet was so much in earnest that he boomed these words out inquite a loud voice. Joseph seized his hand. 

"Hush!" he whispered. 

Father De Smet looked up. There, standing right in front of them in thetow-path, was a German soldier!

"Halt!" shouted the soldier. 

But Netteke was now just as much bent upon going as she had been beforeupon standing still. She paid no attention whatever to the command, butwalked stolidly along the tow-path directly toward the soldier. 

"Halt!" cried the soldier again. 

But Netteke had had no military training, and she simply kept on. Inone more step she would have come down upon the soldier's toes, if hehad not moved aside just in time. He was very angry. 

"Why didn't you stop your miserable old mule when I told you to?" hesaid to Father De Smet. 

"It's a balky mule, " replied Father De Smet mildly, "and veryobstinate. "

"Indeed!" sneered the soldier; "then, I suppose you have named himAlbert after your pig-headed King!"

"No, " answered Father De Smet, "I think too much of my King to name mymule after him. "

"Oh, ho!" said the German; "then perhaps you have named him for theKaiser!"

Netteke had marched steadily along during this conversation, and theywere now past the soldier. 

"No, " Father De Smet called back, "I didn't name her after the Kaiser. I think too much of my mule!"

The soldier shook his fist after them. "I'll make you pay well for yourimpudence!" he shouted. "You and I will meet again!"

"Very likely, " muttered Father De Smet under his breath. He was nowmore than ever anxious to get beyond the German lines before dark, butas the afternoon passed it became certain that they would not be ableto do it. The shadows grew longer and longer as Netteke plodded slowlyalong, and at last Mother De Smet called to her husband over theboatside. 

"I think we shall have to stop soon and feed the mule or she will betoo tired to get us across the line at all. I believe we should savetime by stopping for supper. Besides, I want to send over there, " shepointed to a farmhouse not a great distance from the river, "and getsome milk and eggs. "

"Very well, " said her husband; "we'll stop under that bunch of willows. "

The bunch of willows beside the river which he pointed out proved to bea pleasant, sheltered spot, with grassy banks sloping down to thewater. A turn in the river enabled them to draw the "Old Woman" up intotheir shadows, and because the trees were green and the boat was green, the reflections in the water were also green, and for this reason theboat seemed very well hidden from view. 

"I don't believe we shall be noticed here, " said Father De Smet. 

"It's hot on the boat. It would be nice to take the babies ashore whilewe eat, " said Mother De Smet, running out the gangplank. "I believewe'll have supper on the grass. You hurry along and get the milk andeggs, and I'll cook some onions while you are gone. "

Jan and Marie ran over the plank at once, and Mother De Smet soonfollowed with the babies. Then, while Marie watched them, she and Janbrought out the onions and a pan, and soon the air was heavy with thesmell of frying onions. Joseph and Jan slipped the bridle overNetteke's collar and allowed her to eat the rich green grass at theriver's edge. When Father De Smet returned, supper was nearly ready. Hesniffed appreciatively as he appeared under the trees. 

"Smells good, " he said as he held out the milk and eggs toward his wife. 

"Sie haben recht!" (You are right!), said a loud voice right behind him!

Father De Smet was so startled that he dropped the eggs. He whirledabout, and there stood the German soldier who had told Netteke to halt. With him were six other men. 

"Ha! I told you we should meet again!" shouted the soldier to Father DeSmet. "And it was certainly thoughtful of you to provide for ourentertainment. Comrades, fall to!"

The onions were still cooking over a little blaze of twigs aid dryleaves, but Mother De Smet was no longer tending them. The instant sheheard the gruff voice she had dropped her spoon, and, seizing a babyunder each arm, had fled up the gangplank on to the boat. Mariefollowed at top speed. Father De Smet faced the intruders. 

"What do you want here?" he said. 

"Some supper first, " said the soldier gayly, helping himself to someonions and passing the pan to his friends. "Then, perhaps, a fewsupplies for our brave army. There is no hurry. After supper will do;but first we'll drink a health to the Kaiser, and since you are hosthere, you shall propose it!"

He pointed to the pail of milk which Father De Smet still held. 

"Now, " he shouted, "lift your stein and say, 'Hoch der Kaiser. '"

Father De Smet looked them in the face and said not a word. MeanwhileJan and Joseph, to Mother De Smet's great alarm, had not followed her, on to the boat. Instead they had flown to Netteke, who was partlyhidden from the group by a bunch of young willows near the water'sedge, and with great speed and presence of mind had slipped her bridleover her head and gently started her up the tow-path. 

"Oh, " murmured Joseph, "suppose she should balk!" But Netteke had doneher balking for the day, and, having been refreshed by her luncheon ofgreen grass, she was ready to move on. The river had now quite acurrent, which helped them, and while the soldiers were still havingtheir joke with Father De Smet the boat moved quietly out of sight. Asshe felt it move, Mother De Smet lifted her head over the boat's railbehind which she and the children were hiding, and raised the end ofthe gangplank so that it would make no noise by scraping along theground. She was beside herself with anxiety. If she screamed or saidanything to the boys, the attention of the soldiers would immediatelybe directed toward them. Yet if they should by any miracle succeed ingetting away, there was her husband left alone to face seven enemies. She wrung her hands. 

"Maybe they will stop to eat the onions, " she groaned to herself. Sheheld to the gangplank and murmured prayers to all the saints she knew, while Jan and Joseph trotted briskly along the tow-path, and Netteke, assisted by the current, made better speed than she had at any timeduring the day. 

Meanwhile his captors were busy with Father De Smet. "Come! Drink tothe Kaiser!" shouted the first soldier, "or we'll feed you to thefishes! We want our supper, and you delay us. " Still Father De Smetsaid nothing. "We'll give you just until I count ten, " said thesoldier, pointing his gun at him, "and if by that time you have notfound your tongue--"

But he did not finish the sentence. From an unexpected quarter a shotrang out. It struck the pail of milk and dashed it over the German andover Father De Smet too. Another shot followed, and the right arm ofthe soldier fell helpless to his side. One of his companions gave ahowl and fell to the ground. Still no one appeared at whom the Germanscould direct their fire. "Snipers!" shouted the soldiers, instantlylowering their guns, but before they could even fire in the directionof the unseen enemy, there was such a patter of bullets about them thatthey turned and fled. 

Father De Smet fled, too. He leaped over the frying-pan and tore downthe river-bank after the boat. As he overtook it, Mother De Smet ranout the gang plank. "Boys!" shouted Father De Smet. "Get aboard! Getaboard!" Joseph and Jan instantly stopped the mule and, dropping thereins, raced up the gangplank, almost before the end of it restedsafely on the ground. Father De Smet snatched up the reins. On went theboat at Netteke's best speed, which seemed no better than a snail'space to the fleeing family. Sounds of the skirmish continued to reachtheir ears, even when they had gone some distance down the river, andit was not until twilight had deepened into dusk, and they were hiddenin its shadows, that they dared hope the danger was passed. It wasafter ten o'clock at night when the "Old Woman" at last approached thetwinkling lights of Antwerp, and they knew that, for the time being atleast, they were safe. 

They wore now beyond the German lines in country still held by theBelgians. Here, in a suburb of the city, Father De Smet decided to dockfor the night. A distant clock struck eleven as the hungry but thankfulfamily gathered upon the deck of the "Old Woman" to eat a meager supperof bread and cheese with only the moon to light their repast. Not untilthey had finished did Father De Smet tell them all that had happened tohim during the few terrible moments when he was in the hands of theenemy. 

"They overreached themselves, " he said. "They meant to amuse themselvesby prolonging my misery, and they lingered just a bit too long. " Heturned to Jan and Joseph. "You were brave boys! If you had not startedthe boat when you did, it is quite likely they might have got me, afterall, and the potatoes too. I am proud of you. "

"But, Father, " cried Joseph, "who could have fired those shots? Wedidn't see a soul. "

"Neither did I, " answered his father; "and neither did the Germans forthat matter. There was no one in sight. "

"Oh, " cried Mother De Smet, "it was as if the good God himselfintervened to save you!"

"As I figure it out, " said Father De Smet, "we must have stopped verynear the trenches, and our own men must have seen the Germans attackus. My German friend had evidently been following us up, meaning to geteverything we had and me too. But the smell of the onions was too muchfor him! If he hadn't been greedy, he might have carried out his plan, but he wanted our potatoes and our supper too; and so he got neither!"he chuckled. "And neither did the Kaiser get a toast from me! Instead, he got a salute from the Belgians. " He crossed himself reverently. "Thank God for our soldiers, " he said, and Mother De Smet, weepingsoftly, murmured a devout "Amen. "

Little did Jan and Marie dream as they listened, that this blessingrested upon their own father, and that he had been one of the Belgiansoldiers, who, firing from the trenches, had delivered them from thehands of their enemies. Their father, hidden away, in the earth like afox, as little dreamed that he had helped to save his own children froma terrible fate. 

XII

THE ZEPPELIN RAID

When the Twins awoke, early the next morning, they found that Fatherand Mother De Smet had been stirring much earlier still, and that the"Old Woman" was already slipping quietly along among the docks ofAntwerp. To their immense surprise they were being towed, not byNetteke, but by a very small and puffy steam tug. They were furtherastonished to find that Netteke herself was on board the "Old Woman. "

"How in the world did you get the mule on to the boat!" gasped Jan, when he saw her. 

"Led her right up the gangplank just like folks, " answered Father DeSmet. "I couldn't leave her behind and I wanted to get to the Antwerpdocks as soon as possible. This was the quickest way. You see, " he wenton, "I don't know where I shall be going next, but I know it won't beup the Dyle, so I am going to keep Netteke right where I can use herany minute. "

There was no time for further questions, for Father De Smet had todevote his attention to the tiller. Soon they were safely in dock andFather De Smet was unloading his potatoes and selling them to themarket-men, who swarmed about the boats to buy the produce which hadbeen brought in from the country. 

"There!" he said with a sigh of relief as he delivered the last of hiscargo to a purchaser late in the afternoon; "that load is safe from theGermans, anyway. "

"How did you find things up the Dyle?" asked the merchant who hadbought the potatoes. 

Father De Smet shook his head. 

"Couldn't well be worse, " he said. "I'm not going to risk another trip. The Germans are taking everything they can lay their hands on, and aredestroying what they can't seize. I nearly lost this load, and my lifeinto the bargain. If it hadn't been that, without knowing it, westopped so near the Belgian line of trenches that they could fire onthe German foragers who tried to take our cargo, I shouldn't have beenhere to tell this tale. "

"God only knows what will become of Belgium if this state of thingscontinues, " groaned the merchant. "Food must come from somewhere or thepeople will starve. "

"True enough, " answered Father De Smet. "I believe I'll try a tripnorth through the back channels of the Scheldt and see what I can pickup. "

"Don't give up, anyway, " urged the merchant. "If you fellows go back onus, I don't know what we shall do. We depend on you to bring suppliesfrom somewhere, and if you can't get them in Belgium, you'll have to goup into Holland. "

Mother De Smet leaned over the boatrail and spoke to the two men whowere standing on the dock. 

"You'd better believe we'll not give up, " she said. "We don't know themeaning of the word. "

"Well, " said the merchant sadly, "maybe you don't, but there are otherswho do. It takes a stout heart to have faith that God hasn't forgottenBelgium these days. "

"It's easy enough to have faith when things are going right, " saidMother De Smet, "but to have faith when things are going wrong isn't soeasy. " Then she remembered Granny. "But a sick heart won't get youanywhere, and maybe a stout one will, " she finished. 

"That's a good word, " said the merchant. 

"It was said by as good a woman as treads shoe-leather, " answeredMother De Smet. 

"You are safe while you stay in Antwerp, anyway, " said the merchant ashe turned to say good-bye. "Our forts are the strongest in the worldand the Germans will never be able to take them. There's comfort inthat for us. " Then he spoke to his horses and turned away with his load. 

"Let us stay right here to-night, " said Mother De Smet to her husbandas he came on board the boat. "We are all in need of rest afteryesterday, and in Antwerp we can get a good night's sleep. Besides, itis so late in the day that we couldn't get out of town before dark ifwe tried. "

Following this plan, the whole family went to bed at dusk, but theywere not destined to enjoy the quiet sleep they longed for. The nightwas warm, and the cabin small, so Father De Smet and Joseph, as well asthe Twins, spread bedding on the deck and went to sleep looking up atthe stars. 

They had slept for some hours when they were suddenly aroused by thesound of a terrific explosion. Instantly they sprang to their feet, wide awake, and Mother De Smet came rushing from the cabin with thebabies screaming in her arms. 

"What is it now? What is it?" she cried. 

"Look! Look!" cried Jan. 

He pointed to the sky. There, blazing with light, like a greatmisshapen moon, was a giant airship moving swiftly over the city. As itsailed along, streams of fire fell from it, and immediately therefollowed the terrible thunder of bursting bombs. When it passed out ofsight, it seemed as if the voice of the city itself must rise inanguish at the terrible destruction left in its wake. 

Just what that destruction was, Father De Smet did not wish to see. "This is a good place to get away from, " he said to the frightenedgroup cowering on the deck of the "Old Woman" after the bright terrorhad disappeared. When morning came he lost no time in making the bestspeed he could away from the doomed city of Antwerp which they hadthought so safe. 

When they had left the city behind them and the boat was slowly makingits way through the quiet back channels of the Scheldt the world oncemore seemed really peaceful to the wandering children. Their way layover still waters and beside green pastures, and as they had nocommunication with the stricken regions of Belgium, they had no news ofthe progress of the war, until, some days later, the boat docked atRotterdam, and it became necessary to decide what should be done next. There they learned that they had barely escaped the siege of Antwerp, which had begun with the Zeppelin raid. 

Father De Smet was now obliged to confront the problem of what to dowith his own family, for, since Antwerp was now in the hands of theenemy, he could no longer earn his living in the old way. Under thesechanged conditions he could not take care of Jan and Marie, so one sadday they said good-bye to good Mother De Smet, to Joseph and thebabies, and went with Father De Smet into the city of Rotterdam. 

They found that these streets were also full of Belgian refugees, andhere, too, they watched for their mother. In order to keep up hercourage, Marie had often to feel of the locket and to say to herself:"She will find us. She will find us. " And Jan, Jan had many times tosay to himself, "I am now a man and must be brave, " or he would havecried in despair. 

But help was nearer than they supposed. Already England had begun toorganize for the relief of the Belgian refugees, and it was in theoffice of the British Consul at Rotterdam that Father De Smet finallytook leave of Jan and Marie. The Consul took them that night to his ownhome, and, after a careful record had been made of their names andtheir parents' names and all the facts about them, they were next dayplaced upon a ship, in company with many other homeless Belgians, andsent across the North Sea to England. 

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.