Chapter XX
The next day Walter rang the doctor’s door-bell. His heart was in a flutter, for the doctor lived in an imposing house. He was admitted and, after he had been announced, was told just to come upstairs.
The maid conducted Walter to the “study,” where the doctor was busy performing one of his paternal duties: he was teaching his children.
There were three. A boy, somewhat older than Walter, sat alone in one corner writing at a small table. The other two, a boy of Walter’s age and a girl that seemed to be a few years younger, stood before the table behind which the doctor was sitting. On the table stood a large globe, evidently the subject of discussion. This became clear to Walter later, for, as far as he knew, he had never seen such a large ball. He didn’t know that there was any other way to explain the location of countries except by means of maps. Thus he noticed in the room all sorts of things that he didn’t understand till later.
When the maid opened the door of the room he heard the voices of the children, and also that of the father. He even heard laughter; but when he walked in all became as still as death. The two children at the table stood like soldiers. There was something so comical in their attitude that Walter could have laughed at them if he hadn’t been so embarrassed. Even the girl had a touch of official earnestness in her face more striking than he had seen it in older people, even at church. While the doctor was welcoming Walter and offering him a chair, the boy stood with hands clapped down on the seams of his trousers as if he expected someone to say, “Right about—face!” or, “Forward, column right, march!”
The larger boy in the corner had only looked up once, but with that peculiarly hostile expression which distinguishes man from other animals—to the disadvantage of the former. It is noticeable especially in children—sometimes in women.
“I’m glad to see you, my boy. It was nice of you to come. What have you there?”—then he turned to the little soldiers.
“Remind me afterward to tell you at dinner something about Olivier van Noort. William, you can think of it, can’t you?”
Walter squinted at his Lady Macbeth, and was so embarrassed that he was helpless to present it to the doctor. The room was so magnificent; and the furnishings—the big cases full of books! His picture seemed so common and ugly that, if he could have done so, he would have swallowed it.