The New Land | Page 8

sprang up, shaking out her silken skirts, dancing gayly in her little buckled shoes. "Come, boy," she commanded imperiously, "Come and play with me." She fumbled in the pocket of her black satin apron and drew out a tiny worsted ball. "Let's play ball," she cried, "and then we'll run races and climb that tree over there and maybe you can tell me stories when I'm tired. My old nurse in Holland used to tell me brave tales, but I don't like those black Daniel tells--all about charms and goblins. Do you know any nice stories, boy?"
"Yes, a few," admitted Samuel modestly. His cheeks, usually so pale, were flushed with excitement; the little playfellow of his dreams seemed to have come to life in the flower-strewn meadow. He caught the bright ball she tossed to him and laughed with pleasure. "You catch wrongly," he chided her, "but I like to play with you."
The afternoon sped on golden wings. Perhaps neither of the children would have dreamed of the lateness of the hour had not Katrina interrupted Samuel in the middle of one of his glowing tales, exclaiming, "I'm hungry, now. I wonder what cook has for supper?"
Samuel started. The story of the old sea captain he had been telling his new friend was very real to him; he could almost see the old, ancient, weather-beaten vessel, hear the waves beating on the shores of that distant island where the golden treasure lay hidden for so many years. Now his dream people faded away and he saw that the sun was setting and felt the air growing chill and damp about them. He rose a little wearily and helped Katrina to her feet.
"We must go home," he said, gravely. "Perhaps we did wrong to stay so long, but it was fun to play together, wasn't it? And did you like my stories?"
She nodded, bending to pick up the bouquet he had gathered for her earlier in the afternoon. "I like them as well as the tales my nursie used to tell," she commented, approvingly. "You'll show me the way home, won't you?"
Hand in hand, they walked slowly back to the dusty street that led to the governor's house. At the gate, Samuel was about to bid his little friend good-bye, but she caught his hand and drew him in after her. "Oh, you must stay," she protested, "you must stay and let Uncle Peter thank you for bringing me home. And I want you to tell me another story after supper. You must come in!"
"But my mother will be worried," declared Samuel, "and father----"
"We'll have Daniel go and tell them you are here," she solved the problem easily. Then she ran up the broad stairs, crying gaily, "Oh, Uncle, I've had the loveliest time," as a short, stern-faced man appeared in the doorway; a man with a silver-banded wooden leg and leaning on a heavy cane.
"Katrina!" he exclaimed with some sternness, but she pulled his hard face down to hers for a kiss.
"I've had such a lovely time," she cooed, "and this nice boy found me and brought me home. Thank him, Uncle Peter, and have him come in and tell me some more stories."
Samuel drew back; but the governor nodded for him to enter, and, feeling miserably shy and uncertain of himself, he followed the pair into the house. The room they entered was richly furnished, but gloomy. Samuel, boy that he was, felt how much lovelier his mother's simple living room was with its shining brass and the few plants blooming at the window. The governor sat down behind a long table littered with papers and drew Katrina to his knee, at the same time motioning Samuel to be seated. Then he spoke, stroking the child's golden curls, his keen eyes growing gentle as they rested upon her pretty face.
"You have been of service to my little girl and I will do my best to reward you," said Governor Stuyvesant, kindly. "What will it be, my lad, a velvet suit brought over in the last cargo from Holland, or a golden chain?" Suddenly the eyes he turned upon Samuel grew cold and keen again. "You are not one of us, yet I have seen you before. Who is your father and what is his trade?"
"I am Samuel, the son of Jacob Barsimon," answered Samuel, and suddenly all his shyness left him and he gazed fearlessly into the governor's face. "And my father is an honest merchant of New Amsterdam."
"Yes--and of the tribe of Israel," muttered the old man, his brow darkening. "I wish my little one might have been indebted to another this day; but I am as honest a man as your father and what I promise, I keep. So name what reward you will for the favor