"God bless them!" echoed Hans, and for the first time that day, his eyes filled with tears.
XXXVII
THE FATHER'S RETURN
That evening Raff Brinker felt so much better that he insisted upon sitting up a while on the rough, high-backed chair by the fire. For a few moments there was quite a commotion in the little cottage. Hans was all-important on the occasion, for his father was a heavy man, and needed something firm to lean upon. The dame, though none of your fragile ladies, was in such a state of alarm and excitement at the bold step they were taking in lifting him without the meester's orders, that she came near pulling her husband over, even while she believed herself to be his main prop and support.
"Steady, vrouw, steady," panted Raff; "have I grown old and feeble, or is it the fever makes me thus helpless?"
"Hear the man!" laughed Dame Brinker, "talking like any other Christian. Why, you're only weak from the fever, Raff. Here's the chair, all fixed snug and warm; now, sit thee down—hi-di-didy—there we are!"
With these words, Dame Brinker let her half of the burden settle slowly into the chair. Hans prudently did the same.
Meanwhile Gretel flew about generally, bringing every possible thing to her mother to tuck behind the father's back and spread over his knees. Then she twitched the carved bench under his feet, and Hans kicked the fire to make it brighter.