122 Hans Brinker

been well and strong. Last night the mother knelt upon the
hearth to blow the peat (it is his only delight to sit and watch
the live embers; and she will blow them into a blaze every
hour of the day, to please him). Before she could stir, he
sprang upon her like a giant, and held her close to the fire, all
the time laughing, and shaking his head. I was on the canal;
but I heard the mother scream, and ran to her. The father
had never loosened his hold; and her gown was smoking. I
tried to deaden the fire; but with one hand he pushed me off.
There was no water in the cottage, or I could have done bet-
ter; and all that time he laughed, such a terrible laugh, myn-
heer! hardly a sound, but all in his face. I tried to pull her
away; but that only made it worse. "Then— jit was dread-
ful; but could I see the mother burn? —I beat him, — beat
him with a stool. He tossed me away. The gown was on
fire. I would put it out. I can’t remember well after that:
I found myself upon the floor, and the mother was praying.
It seemed to me that she was in a blaze; and, all the while, I
could hear that laugh. My sister Gretel screamed out that he
was holding the mother close to the very coals: / could not
tell! Gretel flew to the closet, and filled a porringer with the
food he liked, and put it upon the floor. Then, mynheer, he
left the mother, and crawled to it like a little child. She was
not burnt, only a part of her clothing. Ah, how kind she
was to him all night! watching and tending him. He slept in
a high fever, with his hand pressed to his head. The mother
says he has done that so much of late, as though he felt pain
there. Ah, mynheer, I did not mean to tell you. If the
father was himself, he would not harm even a kitten.”
For a moment the two boys moved on in silence.
“Tt is terrible,” said Peter at last. ‘“‘ How is he to-day?”