“What? The Restoration! It turns day into night, and brings back Charles II! Go on, please, I can believe anything now!”
MET HANGENDE POOTJES—RE INFECTA.
“Hallo! is this where you are?” sounded gratefully on our ears. It was van Leeuwen, who had been expecting us all day, after he had heard about our call, from the indignant butler. He had given up all hope of seeing us, but we passed him by in the dark, talking and laughing. He had followed hot-speed to the station—in time to explain the mysteries of the D-trein. My spirits rose. The world was still ruled by reason. Of course we went back with our rescuer. That was the original plan, and I had a grammar to send with him to the Hague.
As he waited, talking to Terence, I recalled the cycles. The wit-jas demurred: “De fietsen zijn al weg.”
“Neen, niet waar,” I told him. “Onmogelijk, hoor! Geen trein is weg. Daar zijn de papiertjes ervan. Pak ze: breng de fietsen mee. Ik weiger je verontschuldigingen. Doe wat ik zeg, ik bid U. En niet terug komen met hangende pootjes!”
CHAPTER XV.
SUPPER AT A BOERDERIJ.
That night, after Terence had retired, I had a confidential talk with van Leeuwen; and I begged of him, as a great favour, to take the Grammar to Kathleen, and—if he had time—give her a little coaching in Dutch. He said he would—to oblige me; and I was pleased to notice that he started, taking Boyton with him, by the earliest possible train. This was the six twenty—a notorious bommel which brought him into the Hague only seventeen minutes earlier than if he had waited for a decent breakfast.
Enderby got to Arnhem about noon, and took us ‘in tow’ for our cycling tour. We had a glorious week of it in Gelderland under his direction; but there were no adventures worth speaking of. In ten days we were back at the Residentie, as ‘brown as berries and as gay as larks’. It is Terence’s phrase, and I give it for what it’s worth.