Then Markus turned around. As soon as the two standing outside recognized his face, they shouted "Hurrah!" and rushed in without knocking.
Marjon flew to Markus, threw her arms about his neck, and kissed him. Johannes, rather more shy, clung to his hand. Keesje, being distrustful of the children, peered around the place with careful scrutiny.
Then there followed in Dutch a brisk, confused interchange of information. All the adventures had to be narrated, and Marjon was very happy and communicative. The mother kept still, looking on with a discontented air, full of her own troubles. The noise awakened the half-slumbering child, and it began to cry.
Then the husband came home, morose and irritable.
"What confounded business is this?" he cried; and the two were silent, slowly comprehending that they were in a dwelling full of care. Johannes looked earnestly at the weary, care-seamed face of the man, and the pale, anxious features of the mother, wondering if there was any news.
"Hollanders?" asked the miner, seating himself at the table, and holding up a plate.
"Yes, friends of Markus," replied the wife. Then, in assumed calmness, she asked: "Is there any news?"
"We have the best of it!" said the husband, with forced cheerfulness. "We win—we surely win. It can't be otherwise. What have you to say about it, Markus?"
But Markus was silent, and gazing out-of-doors. Swearing because the food was not to his taste, the man then began to eat. Marjon's merriment subsided. The wife shook her head sadly, and kissed her child.
"You need to look out, you young rascals," said the man, all at once. "They are searching for you. Have you been pilfering? Which of you is the girl in disguise?"