Before night a letter came from his uncle, saying that Johnny was quite ill, and had been unable to travel to the Hague; but he was now so much better, that they would probably join Eric in a day or two.
“I shan’t mind waiting,” said Eric to himself; “and there’s nothing now to prevent my going to Amsterdam to-morrow; but I wish uncle Charlie could be with me too.”
Then he remembered that he had been left under the landlord’s care, and must obtain his permission. So he sought him out, and made known his request.
The landlord of the Vyverberg was a kind-hearted German. He was quite fond of his little American guest, and readily consented to his plan for the morrow, telling Eric that Monsieur Lacelle was a remarkable man, and he could not be in better hands.
“I think this is just the jolliest country, and full of the jolliest people in the world,” was Eric’s mental comment before he fell asleep that night. Indeed, there are few people more kind-hearted, thoughtful, or hospitable than the Dutch and Germans.
Eric’s parents were anxiously wondering how their boy fared alone in Gravenhaag.
Could they have seen him as he read his promised chapter, and knelt to commit himself to God, or afterwards, falling asleep, his last thought of the kindness of the people around him, their own sleep would have been far lighter, and their prayers would have blessed the good foreigners.