"Go get the seats," ordered Grimm. "Here's the money. Get two front seats. Two. We'll both go. We'll make a night of it, you and I. We'll stay out till—till ten o'clock!"
The vision of this bliss was too much for Willem's English.
"Ekar, ekar na hat circus!" he babbled dazedly.
Then he rushed up impulsively to Peter and seized the big, kindly hand in both his own.
"Oh, Mynheer Grimm!" he squealed in ecstasy. "There ain't any one else like you in the world. And—and—when the other fellows laugh at your funny hat, I don't."
"What?" asked Grimm, perplexed. "Is my hat funny?"
The boy was vibrant with laughter, drunk with anticipation. But, momentarily straightening his glowing face with a cast of semi-gravity, he said:
"And—and—Mynheer Grimm—it's too bad you've got to die!"