But what pleased Paul more than the gardens of rich men, was an opportunity to visit the house and grounds of a citizen in humbler life. Mr. Fluxion asked the permission, which was readily granted.
"You needn't take your shoes off here, as you must in some parts of Holland, before you enter a house; but you must wipe them very carefully," said the vice-principal. "The greatest sin against a Dutch housewife is to carry any dirt into her premises."
Paul made sure that not a particle of dust clung to his feet, and entered the cottage. It was plainly furnished; but everything was as clean, and white, and neat as though the room had been the interior of the upper bureau drawer. Dr. Winstock ventured the remark, that Dutch husbands must be the most miserable men in the world, since it could not but be painful to be so excruciatingly nice.
The proprietor of the house had about half an acre of land, which constituted his garden. It was laid out with winding walks and fanciful plats of ground, filled with the richest-hued flowers. It contained a pond and a canal, on a small scale; for a Dutchman would not be at home without a water prospect, even if it were only in miniature. At the end of the garden, overlooking the pond, there was a grotesque little summer house, large enough to accommodate the proprietor and his family. Here, of a summer afternoon, he smoked his pipe, drank his tea, coffee, or beer, while his wife plied her needle, and the children played at the door.
"What is that inscription on the house?" asked Paul, as they approached the building.
"Mijn genegenheid is voldam," replied Mr. Fluxion.
"Exactly so! I understand that, and those are my sentiments," laughed Paul; "but what does it all mean?"
"'My desire is satisfied,'" replied the vice-principal.
"He is a happy man if that is so," added the doctor.
"Many of the Dutch label their garden houses with a sentiment like that," continued Mr. Fluxion. "I have seen one somewhere which smacks of Yankee slang—'Niet zoo kwaalijk.'"