Chapter XV: Supper at a Boerderij

IN THE SHADE OF THE PRIEELTJE.--AN UNPREPARED GUEST.--COWS' OVERCOATS.--THANK YOU.--ANOTHER CUP.--VOOR DE PRONK.--THINGS ARE DEAR IN HOLLAND.--AN INNOCENT OBSERVATION.--HALF-ELF.--STARVATION IN THE MIDST OF PLENTY.--A MOHAMMEDAN.--PROBEER NOUW IS.--OPEN SESAME.--AN AFFECTIONATE IRISH TERRIER.--GENERAL PRINCIPLES.--A PARTING SALVO.

That night, after Terence had retired, I had a confidential talk with van Leeuwen; and I begged of him, as a great favour, to take the Grammar to Kathleen, and--if he had time--give her a little coaching in Dutch. He said he would--to oblige me; and I was pleased to notice that he started, taking Boyton with him, by the earliest possible train. This was the six twenty--a notorious bommel which brought him into the Hague only seventeen minutes earlier than if he had waited for a decent breakfast.

Enderby got to Arnhem about noon, and took us 'in tow' for our cycling tour. We had a glorious week of it in Gelderland under his direction; but there were no adventures worth speaking of. In ten days we were back at the Residentie, as 'brown as berries and as gay as larks'. It is Terence's phrase, and I give it for what it's worth.

But at all events van Leeuwen was gay enough now. His pedagogic labours seemed to suit him, and Kathleen was quite herself again. To hear her laugh now was to imagine that you were back in Kilkenny in the days before the suffragette question was mooted.

We were all delighted. Except perhaps Enderby. That youth didn't appear more than half pleased at the turn things had taken; but he had the grace to keep out of the way and consoled himself with motoring. One day--I had only sat down to luncheon--he carried me off for a great run to the islands south of Rotterdam. But the machine broke down twice before we reached Dordrecht, and we had to content ourselves with housing its fragments in a shed, and walking to a _boerderij_ where my friend was well known. Here, indeed, we were expected to supper; but we arrived hours before we were due, and _minus_ an automobile. This necessitated explanations, which Enderby seemed gracefully enough to make to the family party in the garden. In a shady +prieeltje+ there, they regaled us with "liemonade"; and I occasioned some consternation by rising twice to offer my seat to the mother and daughter respectively, who came in after I had sat down. They wouldn't take the chair I vacated for them, and appeared to resent my civility. Enderby, too, made me uncomfortable by touching my foot and saying, _sotto voce_, "Take care what you're about, O'Neill".

Baas Willemse was very sympathetic about the mishap to our motor, and strongly recommended the services of a gifted blacksmith of his acquaintance.

Indeed, before we knew, he had a pony harnessed in a sort of hooded tax-cart, in which he insisted in driving Enderby to this wonderful mechanic, to have the damaged car put to rights. And off they started.

It was only then that I realized the situation. Here was I--without dictionary or phrase-book--left to play the part of intelligent guest, unaided and unprepared. And that was the first time in my life I was 'spending the evening' in a non-English-speaking home. How would I get through it? I did hope that the local Vulcan would be quick.

At first it wasn't so bad. What with remarks about "het prachtige weer" and "het ongeluk", and what with playing with the children, I got along quite smoothly for a while.

I even discoursed a little about the beauty of the afternoon-sunlight and "het schilderachtige van het zomerlandschap".

All this was taken in such good part that I went further afield; and noticing a large number of cattle with odd coverings on their backs, I ventured on a comparison which I fancied might interest the company. "In Groot-Brittanje hebben de koeien niet zoo dikwijls overjassen. Mag ik beleefd vragen: gebeurt dat hier van wege de gezelligheid, of van wege de gezondheid, of voor het mooi?"

They were all pleased at this, and gave me a lot of talk about cows--which didn't make me much the wiser.

By violent efforts I recalled some of my old choice phrases, and passed myself somehow. But alas! supper came; and then my real troubles began.

We all adjourned to a binnen-kamer, where an ample spread awaited us. I was given the seat of honour. It was a great pity, all agreed, that Mijnheer Enderby wasn't back: but they thought I might be hungry. Well, I was--and with reason. Nothing to eat since breakfast!

"Thee of chocolaat, Mijnheer?"

"Thee, alstublieft", I said.--And I got it.

"Krentebroodjes?"

"Dank U," I answered pleasantly, and reached for one in a leisurely manner. You don't like to parade your hunger, you know. Well, I hadn't been prompt enough. A plateful from which I was about to help myself, was removed. The action surprised me, and I looked for a moment at the mother, who had withdrawn the dainties so unexpectedly. She looked at me, slightly ruffled. But no krentebroodjes!

"Wil mijnheer een broodje met vleesch?"

"Oh dank U wel," I said, endeavouring to be quicker. That time I nearly had a slice. But the agile youth, Jaap, who was in charge of the plate, whipped it away too.

No broodjes met vleesch for me! It was very queer.

"Soms een ei?" said the dignified grandmother, in a white cap with gold ornaments. She presided, and did a great deal of the talking; and I could make out that she was the widow of a fisherman or shipowner in a small way, and had once visited Hull. In virtue of having spent a week there, some forty years before, she was regarded evidently by all the rest as an authority on English manners and customs and language and literature.

"Soms een ei?" she pleaded. "Engelshman like egg."

Very much, indeed, I thought, if I could only get one--call me English or Irish or whatever you like. Fain would I have had an egg off that plate, where she had just put down six or eight, freshly boiled.

Determined to get one, if politeness would assist me, I smiled and bowed and smiled again. "Oh, ik dank U duizendmaal. Ik bewijs volkomen dankbaarheid."

Stunned apparently by my reply, she hesitated. To encourage her to extend these edibles a trifle nearer, I said, "Alstublieft. Dank U." But she only sighed, and laid the plate out of reach, reproachfully.

No eggs!

"Truitje," she whispered to her granddaughter; "presenteer de schuimpjes."

Truitje didn't say a word, but pushed a schaaltje of these light refreshments towards me.

I did secure two; but in a moment they were finished. You see, a schuimpje doesn't last very long, when you are really hungry.

Then the mother complained, courteously, of my slender appetite: "Mijnheer wil niets gebruiken."

"O ja," I interrupted, "integendeel! Heel graag. Alstublieft." And to show I meant it, I asked for another cup of tea. "Mag ik beleefdelijk vragen om een andere kop?" Here I reached cup and saucer towards them.

That certainly created a diversion. They looked blankly at one another, till the grandmother--she was very hearty--called out with a cheerful laugh, "He, ja. Dat's waar ook. De Engelsche koppen zijn groot."

"Truitje," she whispered in an audible aside. "Breng even een Engelsche kom. Ze staan in de kast."

"Zie zoo. Mijnheer," she continued to me with a pleasant smile. "Nouw, Mijnheer wil zeker nog wat thee hebben? Nouw, niet bedanken, hoor."

"Oh ja," I replied joyfully, "Schiet op--Als'tublieft--dank U. Dank U--heelemaal!"

Holding the tea-pot poised in her hand, she looked at me appealingly, but in doubt. "Wat? heus?" she said.

What was I to do?

I looked at her quite as appealingly, and replied. "Ja, heus! Wel zeker."

That was decisive. No tea!

The cup, however, was planted down in front of me, upside down. "Het is voor de pronk, zeker," said the grandmother. "Engelsche gewoonte--zeer net."

But conversation flagged. The silence was painful. You could have heard a pin drop. My discreet attempt to ask for something had failed, and I didn't see exactly how I was to improve upon it.

The mother meantime surveyed my empty plate and empty cup with distinct disapproval, and put out a feeler: "Mijnheer houdt niet van Hollandsche kost?"

'Hollandsch kost', what things +cost+ in Holland--Dutch prices, in other words? Well, they are rather high sometimes. The remark seemed somewhat irrelevant, but it was talk, and therefore welcome. Anything to break that oppressive silence. Eagerly embracing the opportunity of saying something, I responded with cordiality: "Hollandsche kost? Neen. Ik houd niet erg ervan. Dat kan U begrijpen. Ze zijn veels te hoog!"

This well-meant pleasantry was received with such evident disfavour that I hastened to explain. "Ik bedoel dat vele artikelen zijn kostbaar--of kostelijk--mijns bedunkens--in Holland--maar van onberispelijke smaak."

Hardly any response was made to this.--The merest murmur on the part of the grandmother, that was all. But they all looked at me curiously, without saying a word.

Frantically I strove to make an observation in an easy friendly way, but all my Dutch seemed to have deserted me.--At least all I judged suitable.

Fragments of conversation did float through my agonized brain, but none of them was quite what I needed.

"Ik graauw, ik kef en kweel" was out of the question.

Two proverbs suddenly flashed across my mind, and I gripped them firmly. One was: "Een vogel in de hand is meer waard dan tien in de lucht," and the tempting parallel offered itself: "Een broodje in de hand is meer waard dan tien op een bord." As this aphorism, however, didn't sound extra civil, I let it pass.

"Deugd en belooning gaan zelden te samen" was the second proverb; and on that model I managed, after due cogitation, to construct a nice harmless phrase. As it expressed what we all knew and could see before our eyes, I felt safe against contradiction, and I knew it couldn't hurt anybody. This dictum ran: "Koek en boterham gaan dikwijls te samen."

Perhaps it was owing to the suddenness with which I proclaimed this truth, or to some severity in my manner; but the effect produced on the company was magical.

Jaap dropped his fork with a clatter and said, "Gunst!" The mother put her hand to her chest, whispering. "Zoo'n schrik!" All looked startled and stopped eating!

To divert the scrutiny of so many eyes, I manufactured talk on the first thing that occurred to me, and, reverting to the Dutch prices, said: "Sommige artikelen in Holland zijn duur. Van morgen heb ik een plaat bezichtigd--een poes opgerold over een kannetje melk--de zee in de verte. Prachtig. Maar peper-duur. Tien gulden en een half."

"Wat zegt mijnheer," asked the grandmother, "van de poes en de peper en de tien gulden?"

Assuring her it was merely a 'plaat', but one that was 'erg kostbaar', I grasped at the analogy of the hours of the day, to do full justice to the expensiveness of the picture. If ten o'clock and a half works out at "half-elf-uur," it is not hard to reckon what ten guilders-and-a-half _ought_ to be; so I gave it with relish: "En, Juffrouw, wat denkt U? Het kost half-elf-gulden!"

Jaap looked at his watch and shook his head. Then he shook the watch, put it back in his pocket and fastened his eyes again on me.

"Nee, hoor!" exclaimed the mother, who had now begun to help a special dish; "Nee; zoo laat is het niet. Mijnheer O'Neill, neem een stukje pudding--toe dan--heel verteerbaar."

My plate was passed along, and was heaped up liberally. Though I waited with my thanks as long as I could, I was obliged to intervene when the plate was piled high enough for any two people. "Nouw, ik bedank!" I ejaculated, making my best bow.

But that caused the guillotine to fall once more. With a gesture of impatience Truitje put away my verteerbaar pudding on a remote side-table. Not the least chance of getting it!

I was starving in the midst of plenty!

As my hosts appeared to be as much impressed with the contrast as I was, I endeavoured to smooth things over a little, and set them more at their ease. Making the best of it, with all the careless grace I could muster I blandly assured them that it didn't matter. "Het geeft niets--het hindert niet--het komt er niet opaan."

But they grew huffy and distant--my phrases didn't do much to relieve the strain--and I was feeling more depressed and famished every minute, when, to my unspeakable relief, up there came the sound of wheels on the gravel, and in a moment I heard Enderby's voice talking Dutch loudly and confidently in the hall.

The young folks all rushed out to meet him (he is a prime favourite with them) and there was much whispering and laughing and a long confabulation before they came back.

Enderby entered, and greeted the older people merrily: but there was a quizzical frown upon his brow as he sat down near me. "What's all this O'Neill?" he whispered. "Are you ill?"

"I'm as well as could be expected in the circumstances."

"Circumstances! Why you wouldn't touch the good food they gave you. Not content with despising their cookery you objected to their tea-cups, and pretend that religious scruples keep you from eating until after half-past ten. They think you are some kind of Mohammedan. These kind people are a little hurt, I fear; and I can see they are greatly astonished."

"So am I! I have been as polite as anything, all the time; but though they offer me plenty of everything, if I attempt to help myself, whew!--they whisk the dish away. They may be hurt, as you say; but I can tell you, _I'm starving_. Is there no way to--."

Our conversation was interrupted by the mother's voice, which broke in with the cheery question: "Mijnheer Enderby houdt +wel+ van Hollandsche kost, niet waar?"

I watched what he would say.

He used two easy words: "Dat spreekt."

Busying herself with plates and spoons, the mother continued: "U neemt een beetje avondeten?"

"Nouw! Of ik!" said Enderby with enthusiasm--and they brought him eatables all sorts.

These dainties caught my eye in spite of myself; and I wondered why none had been given to me. It was now going on to ten; and I had had nothing since early breakfast, except a glass of lemonade, a cup of tea and two small schuimpjes.

The old lady was observant, and must have detected famine in my eye, for with a glance at the clock she called softly to Truitje: "Probeer nouw is."

To me she said, "Wil Mijnheer nog thee?"

The secret was mine now, and I didn't hesitate.

"Of ik!" I replied.

There was a scream of delight from all quarters! My kom was turned right-side up and filled to the brim with fresh warm tea. I was the centre of interest at once. Cupboards flew open on all sides, like pistol-shots, and everybody was waiting to help me. It was who would give me most.

"Ham en een broodje?"

"Of ik!"

"Rookvleesch--en een ei?"

"Of ik!"

The seven lean years were past, now the time of plenty was come.

"Bitterkoekjes en leverworst?"--"Muisjes en karnemelk?"--"Appelbolletjes, wentelteefjes en molsla?"--I refused nothing.

"Of ik" was the "Open Sesame"--the key to unlock all cupboards and all hearts.

I took care to thank nobody for anything, for fear my plate would be removed. Happy laughter was heard on all sides. Smiles beamed on every face. In an instant I had become the most popular man on the island,--at all events with the people in that farm-house. Their hospitality and my hunger had met at last, and come to terms--to the unbounded enthusiasm of all.

Meantime Enderby had communicated to them the fact that I was an Irishman; and I overheard someone venture on the singular criticism: "De Ieren zijn zoo lief voor elkaar! Hij gebruikt niets als zijn vriend er niet bij is."

"He, wat lief!" said Baas Willemse.

"Innig!" whispered the grandmother, smiling.

"Leuk", answered the mother.

"Aardig", said some one else.

"Typisch", exclaimed Truitje.

A grumble fell on our ears: "Wat gek!"

It was Jaap.

Truitje talked on one side of Enderby; Jaap talked on the other. Enderby smiled, then sniggered, then laughed; and finally, laying down his knife and fork, he looked at me, and leaned back in his chair and positively roared.

"Well, what's the matter?" I asked austerely.

"She says it's touching to see your affection for me. You looked so melancholy when I was away, as if you were longing for something--or crossed in love--or disappointed! You've won their hearts, at last, my boy, not a doubt of it. Still, don't overdo that phrase, now that you've got it. Jaap here has a story about an Irish terrier in Drenthe that refused to eat anything for three days, when its master was away in Amsterdam. But he adds that the terrier made up for it, by eating everything it could, when its master came back. I can see that you are going to achieve a reputation that will outrival that of your canine compatriot, unless you have a care. Be a bit cautious, please."

Here Jaap, dimly apprehending that Enderby was speaking about him, performed a mystic rite that puzzled me extremely.

Pretending to sharpen an imaginary pencil on his forefinger he held it towards us and cried, "Sliep uit."

"What on earth is that?" I asked Enderby--who, however, could only tell me that it was intended as a roguish taunt--Jaap was always a schelm--but the phrase was otherwise meaningless.

As such I jotted it down at once in my notebook for future use.

From these experiences in the boerderij I was able to deduce an important general principle of practical value.

+If you want anything in Holland never say "thank you", until the object is firmly in your grasp.+ Then you may be as civil as you like. But before you get hold of it, you are only safe if you say, "If I".

+In the Dutch language premature thanks are equivalent to a refusal; so you'd better keep your gratitude out of sight.+

Well, I had won all hearts here in virtue of my discoveries. As we were going away the grandmother gave me a second Good-bye, shaking me warmly by both hands. "Heeft mijnheer zich goed geamuseerd?" she enquired.

"Kostelijk--Uitstekend--Nouw!" was my prompt reply, for I had expected that query.

"Wat spreekt mijnheer nouw makkelijk Hollandsch!" she exclaimed.

"Gunst, ja", was my retort. "Ik heb zoo'n pret gehad! Onbetaalbaar!"

But I caught Jaap's eye; it was critical; so to pay back the youth for his terrier-story I took out my pencil, sharpened it in full view of them all and said, "Sliep uit, Jaap; je bent een schelm".

With that they all cheered, young and old, saying "Net, Mijnheer, net!"

"Tot weerziens!" laughed the grandmother shaking hands again. "Kom spoedig terug".

"Ja hoor; dat spreekt."

"Belooft u?" she repeated, before she let me go.

I pulled myself together, and gave a parting salvo: "Ja, zeker--Stellig--Och kom!--Reken er op!--Of ik!!"

We drove away in a perfect tornado of applause.