Kabanata Kabanata 8 · Introducing Jacob Poot and His Cousin

. Introducing Jacob Poot and His Cousin

Hans and Gretel had a fine frolic early on that Saint Nicholas’s Eve.

There was a bright moon, and their mother, though she believed herself

to be without any hope of her husband’s improvement, had been made so

happy at the prospect of the meester’s visit, that she yielded to the

children’s entreaties for an hour’s skating before bedtime.

Hans was delighted with his new skates and, in his eagerness to show

Gretel how perfectly they “worked,” did many things upon the ice that

caused the little maid to clasp her hands in solemn admiration. They

were not alone, though they seemed quite unheeded by the various groups

assembled upon the canal.

The two Van Holps and Carl Schummel were there, testing their fleetness

to the utmost. Out of four trials Peter van Holp had won three times.

Consequently Carl, never very amiable, was in anything but a good humor.

He had relieved himself by taunting young Schimmelpenninck, who, being

smaller than the others, kept meekly near them without feeling exactly

like one of the party, but now a new thought seized Carl, or rather he

seized the new thought and made an onset upon his friends.

“I say, boys, let’s put a stop to those young ragpickers from the

idiot’s cottage joining the race. Hilda must be crazy to think of it.

Katrinka Flack and Rychie Korbes are furious at the very idea of racing

with the girl; and for my part, I don’t blame them. As for the boy, if

we’ve a spark of manhood in us, we will scorn the very idea of--”

“Certainly we will!” interposed Peter van Holp, purposely mistaking

Carl’s meaning. “Who doubts it? No fellow with a spark of manhood in him

would refuse to let in two good skaters just because they were poor!”

Carl wheeled about savagely. “Not so fast, master! And I’d thank you

not to put words in other people’s mouths. You’d best not try it again.”

“Ha, ha!” laughed little Voostenwalbert Schimmelpenninck, delighted at

the prospect of a fight, and sure that, if it should come to blows, his

favorite Peter could beat a dozen excitable fellows like Carl.

Something in Peter’s eye made Carl glad to turn to a weaker offender. He

wheeled furiously upon Voost.

“What are you shrieking about, you little weasel? You skinny herring

you, you little monkey with a long name for a tail!”

Half a dozen bystanders and byskaters set up an applauding shout at this

brave witticism; and Carl, feeling that he had fairly vanquished

his foes, was restored to partial good humor. He, however, prudently

resolved to defer plotting against Hans and Gretel until some time when

Peter should not be present.

Just then, his friend, Jacob Poot, was seen approaching. They could not

distinguish his features at first, but as he was the stoutest boy in the

neighborhood, there could be no mistaking his form.

“Hello! Here comes Fatty!” exclaimed Carl. “And there’s someone with

him, a slender fellow, a stranger.”

“Ha! ha! That’s like good bacon,” cried Ludwig. “A streak of lean and a

streak of fat.”

“That’s Jacob’s English cousin,” put in Master Voost, delighted at being

able to give the information. “That’s his English cousin, and, oh, he’s

got such a funny little name--Ben Dobbs. He’s going to stay with him

until after the grand race.”

All this time the boys had been spinning, turning, rolling, and doing

other feats upon their skates, in a quiet way, as they talked, but now

they stood still, bracing themselves against the frosty air as Jacob

Poot and his friend drew near.

“This is my cousin, boys,” said Jacob, rather out of breath. “Benjamin

Dobbs. He’s a John Bull and he’s going to be in the race.”

All crowded, boy-fashion, about the newcomers. Benjamin soon made up his

mind that the Hollanders, notwithstanding their queer gibberish, were a

fine set of fellows.

If the truth must be told, Jacob had announced his cousin as Penchamin

Dopps, and called his a Shon Pull, but as I translate every word of the

conversation of our young friends, it is no more than fair to mend their

little attempts at English. Master Dobbs felt at first decidedly awkward

among his cousin’s friends. Though most of them had studied English and

French, they were shy about attempting to speak either, and he made very

funny blunders when he tried to converse in Dutch. He had learned that

vrouw meant wife; and ja, yes; and spoorweg, railway; kanaals, canals;

stoomboot, steamboat; ophaalbruggen, drawbridges; buiten plasten,

country seats; mynheer, mister; tweegevegt, duel or “two fights”; koper,

copper; zadel, saddle; but he could not make a sentence out of

these, nor use the long list of phrases he had learned in his “Dutch

dialogues.” The topics of the latter were fine, but were never alluded

to by the boys. Like the poor fellow who had learned in Ollendorf to ask

in faultless German, “Have you seen my grandmother’s red cow?” and, when

he reached Germany, discovered that he had no occasion to inquire after

that interesting animal, Ben found that his book-Dutch did not avail him

as much as he had hoped. He acquired a hearty contempt for Jan van Gorp,

a Hollander who wrote a book in Latin to prove that Adam and Eve spoke

Dutch, and he smiled a knowing smile when his uncle Poot assured him

that Dutch “had great likeness mit Zinglish but it vash much petter

languish, much petter.”

However, the fun of skating glides over all barriers of speech. Through

this, Ben soon felt that he knew the boys well, and when Jacob (with

a sprinkling of French and English for Ben’s benefit) told of a grand

project they had planned, his cousin could now and then put in a ja, or

a nod, in quite a familiar way.

The project WAS a grand one, and there was to be a fine opportunity for

carrying it out; for, besides the allotted holiday of