The Further Adventures of O'Neill in Holland

“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?”

PROBEER NOUW IS

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.

OPEN SESAME

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.”

“Hé, 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.

AN AFFECTIONATE IRISH TERRIER

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.”

GENERAL PRINCIPLES

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.

A PARTING SALVO

“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.

EPILOGUE

On reaching my rooms at Ferdinand Bolstraat 66a, the landlady greeted me with respectful effusion and told me that Jan was as good as cured, though the wounded arm would remain stiff for a good while, she feared. She was loud in the praises of the Engelsche juffrouw and her profisciency in Dutch; and (sinking her voice confidentially) Mijnheer van Leeuwen had left a letter for me upstairs.

“Boyton”, I thought, as I climbed those forty nine precipitous steps that led to my room, “I hope you have done your duty.”

And he had.

THE EXPECTED SURPRISE

Van Leeuwen wrote that he would prepare me for a great surprise! It was yet a profound secret; but, – well, in fact – that is to say – he was engaged to my cousin Kathleen. They had discovered mutual sympathies and affinities over the study of Dutch – to which language now my cousin was devoting her serious attention. By the by they had been delighted with that monograph of mine. And the queer Grammar was useful. (I should think so!)

He said that he could well imagine my astonished looks when I got this news about his attachment! Now confess, he concluded, that you hadn’t the ghost of a suspicion as to what was coming?

“Oh hadn’t I just?” I soliloquized, “Well; there’s only one thing, my dear fellow, to say to all that; And I really must say it in Dutch: Of ik?”