“She has too much to do at my mother’s court,” Walter sighed, and went home sad and disappointed.
When he looked out the window and saw the beautiful stars twinkling encouragement to him, he cheered up a little. His sadness was less bitter, but it was still there. Pain passed into home-sickness, a sweet longing for home, and with tears in his eyes, but no longer despairing, he whispered “Omicron, Omicron!”
Who heard that call, or understood his grief over his exile? Who observed how that sigh for the “higher” and that fiery desire had passed into a nobler state?
After long deliberations and Walter’s express promise to do better, Master Pennewip had at last been prevailed upon to allow our young robber to return to school. He now had the opportunity to perfect himself in verse-writing, penmanship, verbs, “Holland Counts” and other equally important things.
The teacher said that the boy at Muiderberg had been still worse, and he had known what to prescribe. Walter would do all right now, he thought; but Juffrouw Pieterse must get another pastor, for the present one belonged to the class of “drinkers.” This she did. Walter was to receive religious instruction from a real preacher.
I don’t remember the title of the book, but the first lines were:
“Q. From whom did you and everything in existence have its origin?”
Walter wanted to say, From my mother; but the book said:
“Ans. From God, who made everything out of nothing.”
“Q. How do you know that?”