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Updated: July 25, 2025
The stout young man is his student and assistant. Hans is there also. He stands near the window, respectfully waiting until he shall be accosted. "You see, Vollenhoven," said Dr. Boekman, "it is a clear case of " And here the doctor went off into a queer jumble of Latin and Dutch that I cannot conveniently translate.
"Then we should have a chapter," said Raff Brinker, speaking slowly and with difficulty. "I do not know how it is. I am very, very weak. Mayhap the minister will read it to us." Gretel lifted the big Dutch Bible from its carved shelf. Dr. Boekman, rather dismayed at being called a minister, coughed and handed the volume to his assistant. "Read," he murmured.
The old doctor looked fearfully grim and forbidding. Hans's heart was in his throat, but he found voice enough to cry out, just as he was passing, "Mynheer Boekman!" The great man halted and, sticking out his thin underlip, looked scowling about him. Hans was in for it now. "Mynheer," he panted, drawing close to the fierce-looking doctor, "I knew you could be none other than the famous Boekman.
Perhaps mine host felt that he was speaking too openly to a stranger, or it may be he saw a smile lurking in Peter's face, for he added sharply, "Come, now, what more do you wish? Supper? Beds?" "No, mynheer, I am but searching for Dr. Boekman." "Go find him. He is not in Leyden." Peter was not to be put off so easily.
"You know he was innocent of wrong, that he loved you and his dead mother. We will find him. You shall see him again, dear meester." "God bless you!" said Dr. Boekman, seizing the boy's hand. "It may be as you say. I shall try I shall try and, Brinker, if ever the faintest gleam of recollection concerning him should come to you, you will send me word at once?"
After tiffin, they rested awhile, and then took another, which, for form's sake, they called dinner. After dinner the boys sat warming themselves at the inn; all but Peter, who occupied the time in another fruitless search for Dr. Boekman. This over, the party once more prepared for skating.
If the father was himself, he would not harm even a kitten." For a moment the two boys moved on in silence. "It is terrible," said Peter at last. "How is he today?" "Very sick, mynheer." "Why go for Dr. Boekman, Hans? There are others in Amsterdam who could help him, perhaps. Boekman is a famous man, sought only by the wealthiest, and they often wait upon him in vain."
You perceive, Peter, that we may be quite mistaken in judging a person solely by his manners, though a courteous deportment is by no means to be despised." "I intended no disrespect, mother," said Peter, "but surely one has no right to go growling and snarling through the world as they say he does." "They say. Ah, Peter, 'they' means everybody or nobody. Surgeon Boekman has had a great sorrow.
It was four days ago, and there is the sad group just as it was before. No, not precisely the same, for Raff Brinker is paler; his fever is gone, though he knows nothing of what is passing. Then they were alone in the bare, clean room. Now there is another group in an opposite corner. Dr. Boekman is there, talking in a low tone with a stout young man who listens intently.
There was a block of cork on each side of the chimney place. One of these he placed under his mother's feet. Hans turned to go. "Wait a moment, if you please, young man," said the lady. "I accidentally overheard you and my son speaking, I think, of my friend Dr. Boekman. You are right, young man. Dr. Boekman has a very kind heart.
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