Well, he would have answered. Such a traveller in such a book is never embarrassed.
Then Walter began to address all sorts of remarks to negro kings that he had conquered with lance and sword. All the women kissed his hand as he rode by on his bay, with fiery red caparison. He inquired patronizingly after those good girls who had nursed him in his illness, “because the strange white man was far from mother and sisters and had no home.” He would reward them princely.
In all this conquered land Walter was king and Femke was—queen! How magnificent the big red velvet cloak would look on her—and the gold crown!
Conquering continents was easy. He was scarcely thirteen; and yet he was afraid that somebody might get ahead of him while he was being detained by the treacherous Pennewip with declensions and conjugations. And, then there were still more things to learn before one could be king, even of a small country. Pocket-change would have to be increased too, for, with all possible economy, six doits a week were insufficient. The Hallemans—well, they had more; but fortunately they were not thinking of Africa. For the present he was not afraid of any competition from that quarter; but other children, nearer the “grown-up” stage, might get the idea in their heads! And then, what would he do to keep his mother from guessing when he made his trips into the “interior” longer, and stayed out later than was allowed by the regulations of the Pieterse household?
It was a difficult matter, but he would manage it.
All that might happen to him and Femke in Africa would be read afterwards in pretty little books with colored pictures. He already saw himself sitting on a throne, and Femke by his side. She was not proud; she was willing for everybody to know—all those kneeling before her—that she had been a poor wash-girl. She had become queen because Walter had loved her; and now they needn’t kneel any more.
On special occasions—well, of course, that was different; for instance, when his mother and Stoffel came to visit him. They should see how all the people honored him—and Femke whom they had treated so badly. But once would be enough; then he would forgive them everything and build them a big house with water-barrels and wash-tubs. For Pennewip he would build a big schoolhouse, with desks and ink-bottles and copy-books and wall maps of Europe and tables of the new weights and measures. Then the old master could give instruction from early in the morning till late at night—or even all night.
He was just puzzling over how he was going to reconcile Master Pennewip and the dusky young African to one another when Leentje opened the door.
Without noticing it he had got home and rung the door-bell. Unsuspectingly he fell into an environment quite different from that in which he had moved for the last half hour. He scarcely understood what his mother meant when she asked him how the visit turned out, and whether Juffrouw Laps was satisfied with his report on the sermon.
Sermon? Laps? He was unprepared for such an examination. He stammered out a sort of miscellaneous and irrelevant jumble of words, but fortunately containing nothing about Africa.