The Belgian Twins | Page 5

hummed so drowsily in the clover that Mother Van Hove also
took forty winks, while Father Van Hove led Pier to the river for a
drink; and tied him where he could enjoy the rich meadow grass for a
while.
And now the long day was nearly over. The last level rays of the
disappearing sun glistened on the red roofs of the village, and the
windows of the little houses gave back an answering flash of light. On
the steeple of the tiny church the gilded cross shone like fire against the
gray of the eastern sky.
The village clock struck seven and was answered faintly by the sound
of distant chimes from the Cathedral of Malines, miles away across the
plain.
For some time Father Van Hove had been standing on top of the load,
catching the sheaves which Mother Van Hove tossed up to him, and
stowing them away in the farm-wagon, which was already heaped high
with the golden grain. As the clock struck, he paused in his labor, took
off his hat, and wiped his brow. He listened for a moment to the music
of the bells, glanced at the western sky, already rosy with promise of
the sunset, and at the weather- cock above the cross on the
church-steeple. Then he looked down at the sheaves of wheat, still
standing like tiny tents across the field.
"It's no use, Mother," he said at last; "we cannot put it all in to-night,
but the sky gives promise of a fair day to-morrow, and the
weather-cock, also, points east. We can finish in one more load; let us
go home now."
"The clock struck seven," cried Jan. "I counted the strokes."
"What a scholar is our Janke!" laughed his mother, as she lifted the last
sheaf of wheat on her fork and tossed it at Father Van Hove's feet. "He

can count seven when it is supper-time! As for me, I do not need a
clock; I can tell the time of day by the ache in my bones; and, besides
that, there is Bel at the pasture bars waiting to be milked and bellowing
to call me."
"I don't need a clock either," chimed in Marie, patting her apron
tenderly; "I can tell time by my stomach. It's a hundred years since we
ate our lunch; I know it is."
"Come, then, my starvelings," said Mother Van Hove, pinching Marie's
fat cheek, "and you shall save your strength by riding home on the load!
Here, Ma mie, up you go!"
She swung Marie into the air as she spoke. Father Van Hove reached
down from his perch on top of the load, caught her in his arms, and
enthroned her upon the fragrant grain.
"And now it is your turn, my Janke!" cried Mother Van Hove, "and you
shall ride on the back of old Pier like a soldier going to the wars!" She
lifted Jan to the horse's back, while Father Van Hove climbed down to
earth once more and took up the reins.
Fidel came back dripping wet from the river, shook himself, and fell in
behind the wagon. "U - U!" cried Father Van Hove to old Pier, and the
little procession moved slowly up the cart-path toward the shining
windows of their red-roofed house.
The home of the Van Hoves lay on the very outskirts of the little
hamlet of Meer. Beside it ran a yellow ribbon of road which stretched
across the green plain clear to the city of Malines. As they turned from
the cart-path into the road, the old blue cart became part of a little
profession of similar wagons, for the other men of Meer were also late
in coming home to the village from their outlying farms.
"Good-evening, neighbor," cried Father Van Hove to Father Maes,
whose home lay beyond his in the village. "How are your crops coming
on?"
"Never better," answered Father Maes; "I have more wheat to the acre
than ever before."
"So have I, thanks be to the good God;" answered Father Van Hove.
"The winter will find our barns full this year."
"Yes," replied Father Maes a little sadly; "that is, if we have no bad
luck, but Jules Verhulst was in the city yesterday and heard rumors of a
German army on our borders. It is very likely only an idle tale to

frighten the women and children, but Jules says there are men also who
believe it."
"I shall believe nothing of the sort," said Father Van Hove stoutly. "Are
we not safe under the protection of our treaty? No, no, neighbor, there's
nothing to fear! Belgium is neutral ground."
"I hope you may be right," answered Father Maes, cracking his whip,
and the cart moved on.
Mother Van Hove, meanwhile,