“Isn’t it?” she asked, gently shaking her finger at him.

“But we are all here now, and dinner is waiting.”

“Come then,” she answered gaily.  “Do you know whom I met on the stairs?”

“English soldiers.”

“Of course, but among them Junker von Dornburg.”

“He called on me.  A handsome fellow, whose gayety is very attractive, a German from the evangelical countries.”

“Leonhard’s best friend.  Don’t you know?  Surely I’ve told you about him.  Our guest at Jacoba’s wedding.”

“Oh! yes.  Junker Georg.  He tamed the chestnut horse for the Prince’s equerry.”

“That was a daring act,” said Maria, drawing a long breath.

“The chestnut is still an excellent horse,” replied Peter.  “Leonhard thought the Junker, with his gifts and talents, would lift the world out of its grooves; I remember it well, and now the poor fellow must remain quietly here and be fed by us.  How did he happen to join the Englishmen and take part in the war?”

“I don’t know; he only told me that he had had many experiences.”

“I can easily believe it.  He is living at the tavern; but perhaps we can find a room for him in the side wing, looking out upon the court-yard.”

“No, Peter,” cried the young wife eagerly.  “There is no room in order there.”

“That can be arranged later.  At any rate we’ll invite him to dinner to-morrow, he may have something to tell us.  There is good marrow in the young man.  He begged me not to let him remain idle, but make him of use in the service.  Jan Van der Does has already put him in the right place, the new commandant looks into people’s hearts.”

Barbara mingled in the conversation, Peter, though it was a week-day, ordered a jug of wine to be brought instead of the beer, and an event that had not occurred for weeks happened:  the master of the house sat at least fifteen minutes with his family after the food had been removed, and told them of the rapid advance of the Spaniards, the sad fate of the fugitive Englishmen, who had been disarmed and led away in sections, the brave defence the Britons, to whose corps Georg belonged, had made at Alfen, and of another hot combat in which Don Gaytan, the right-hand and best officer of Valdez, was said to have fallen.  Messengers still went and came on the roads leading to Delft, but to-morrow these also would probably be blocked by the enemy.

He always addressed everything he said to Maria, unless Barbara expressly questioned him, and when he at last rose from the table, ordered a good roast to be prepared the next day for the guest he intended to invite.  Scarcely had the door of his room closed behind him, when little Bessie ran up to Maria, threw her arms around her and asked: 

“Mother, isn’t Junker Georg the tall captain with the blue feather, who ran down-stairs so fast to meet you?”

“Yes, child.”