The midwife stepped down the ladder, and a man followed her.

“Ah!  Madame Puzzel, Riekje will be pleased to see you.  Come in,” said Tobias.  “Good-evening, lad.  Oh! it’s Lucas.”

“Good evening, Tobias,” said the young man.  “Dolf has stayed behind with his comrades, so I brought Madame Puzzel.”

“Come and have a drink, my son, then you can go back to Dolf.”

Nelle now came forward.

“Good-evening, Madame Puzzel, how are you?  Here is a chair.  Sit down and warm yourself.”

“Good-evening to you all,” replied the fat little old woman.  “So we are going to have christening sugar on board the Guldenvisch this evening.  It’s your first, is it not, Riekje?  Come, Nelle, make me some coffee and give me some supper.”

“Riekje,” said the young boatman, “I brought Madame Puzzel because Dolf was dragged off by his comrades.  He must not see you suffer.  It is better not, so the others have carried him off to have a drink to give him courage.”

“I shall be braver, too, if he is not here,” replied Riekje, raising her eyes full of tears.

“Yes,” said Nelle, in her turn,” it’s better for every one that Dolf should not be here.”

Tobias then poured out a glass of gin and gave it to the man, saying: 

“There’s something for your trouble, Lucas.  When you have drunk that, your legs will lengthen like a pair of oars, and you’ll get back to your friends in no time.”

Lucas drank it off at two gulps.  As he drank the first he said to the company: 

“Here’s to every one’s health.”

He drank the second, saying to himself: 

“To Dolf’s health, if he is still alive.”

Then he said good-evening.  As the lad left the cabin, the kettle was singing on the fire and there was a good smell of coffee in the room, for Nelle with the mill on her lap was crushing the black berries, which snapped cheerily.

Madame Puzzel had unfastened the metal clasp of her big black-hooded cloak and taken her spectacle case and knitting from her basket.  She put on her spectacles, took up her knitting, sat down by the fire and began to knit.  She wore a woollen flowered jacket under a black shawl, and a skirt of linsey-woolsey.  From time to time she looked over her spectacles without raising her head and glanced at Riekje walking up and down the room groaning.  When the pain became worse, Madame Puzzel tapped her on the cheek, and said: 

“Be brave, Riekje.  You cannot think what a joy it is to hear the little one cry for the first time.  It is like eating vanilla cream in Paradise listening to beautiful violin music.”