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Updated: July 25, 2025
Boekman had been at the hotel, read the note containing Hans's message, and departed for Broek. "I cannot say that it was your letter sent him off so soon," explained the landlord. "Some rich lady in Broek was taken bad very sudden, and he was sent for in haste." Peter turned pale. "What was the name?" he asked. "Indeed, it went in one ear and out of the other, for all I hindered it.
Boekman, chancing to stop at the cottage, had given the idiot Brinker a tremendous dose of medicine, as brown as gingerbread. It had taken six men to hold him while it was poured down. After that he had turned and spoken beautifully to his wife and children. Dame Brinker had laughed herself into violent hysterics. Hans had said, "Here I am, Father, your own dear son!"
You see, according to Celsius " And here the doctor again went off into Latin. "Did the man live?" asked the assistant respectfully. Dr. Boekman scowled. "That is of no consequence. I believe he died, but why not fix your mind on the grand features of the case? Consider a moment how " And he plunged into Latin mysteries more deeply than ever.
The mother's hand was very cold, but a burning spot glowed on her cheek, and her eyes were like a deer's so bright, so sad, so eager. At last there was a movement upon the bed, very slight, but enough to cause them all to start. Dr. Boekman leaned eagerly forward. Another movement. The large hands, so white and soft for a poor man's hand, twitched, then raised itself steadily toward the forehead.
The same thing growing worse ever instant pressure on the brain will take him off soon like THAT," said the doctor, snapping his fingers. "And the operation MAY save him," pursued Hans. "How soon, mynheer, can we know?" Dr. Boekman grew impatient. "In a day, perhaps, an hour. Talk with your mother, boy, and let her decide. My time is short."
Boekman sternly, and at the same time he cast a quick, penetrating look at Hans. "You and the girl must leave the room. The boy may stay." Dame Brinker drew herself up in an instant. Her eyes flashed. Her whole countenance was changed. She looked like one who had never wept, never felt a moment's weakness. Her voice was low but decided. "I stay with my husband, mynheer." Dr.
It was right for Hans to go, but how could they ever live without him? Dr. Boekman made no reply, neither did he push Hans away. His eyes were fixed anxiously upon Raff Brinker. Suddenly he lifted the watch and, with trembling eagerness, attempted to open it. Its stiffened spring yielded at last; the case flew open, disclosing a watch paper in the back bearing a group of blue forget-me-nots.
"It may, my boy. But I have a strong belief that it will cure and not kill. Ah! If boys were not such dunces, I could lay the whole matter before you, but it would be of no use." Hans looked blank at this compliment. "It would be of no use," repeated Dr. Boekman indignantly. "A great operation is proposed, but one might as well do it with a hatchet. The only question asked is, 'Will it kill?"
Boekman commanded "Silence!" and tried to force them from the bedside. He could not keep them off. Hans and the mother laughed and cried together as they hung over the newly awakened man. Gretel made no sound but gazed at them all with glad, startled eyes. Her father was speaking in a faint voice. "Is the baby asleep, Meitje?" "The baby!" echoed Dame Brinker. "Oh, Gretel, that is you!
It felt the bandage, not in a restless, crazy way but with a questioning movement that caused even Dr. Boekman to hold his breath. "Steady! Steady!" said a voice that sounded very strange to Gretel. "Shift that mat higher, boys! Now throw on the clay. The waters are rising fast; no time to " Dame Brinker sprang forward like a young panther.
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