Mandie Collection, The: 4 (70 page)

“Come along, Amanda,” Mrs. Taft said, reaching for Mandie’s hand. “Let’s walk along the wharf here, so when you get back home you can say you walked where your ancestors walked before leaving for America. Someday I’ll take you to Plymouth Rock, where they landed.”

Senator Morton joined Mrs. Taft on the other side, assisting her over the rough surface before they stepped onto the planked wharf. Jonathan and Celia followed close behind.

Mandie noticed several sailors loading and unloading the ships. A mixture of sounds filled the air—the sailors calling to one another, their laughter, some singing somewhere out of sight, and the noise of the freight itself being handled.

Snowball squirmed to be free. Mandie let him down to walk, but held firmly to his leash. “I think he smells fish,” she told her friends.

“Better hold on to him tightly,” Jonathan warned her.

Mrs. Taft glanced sharply at the kitten. “Amanda, whatever you do, do not let that cat get loose.”

Mandie tightened her grip on the leash. “I won’t, Grandmother. He just wants some exercise.”

“Let’s go sit for a few minutes over there on that wall,” Mrs. Taft said. She and Senator Morton led the way to a low, rough seawall, a safe distance from the scurrying workmen.

The young people followed and sat near the adults, Mandie all the while securing Snowball’s leash as tightly as possible.

“Let’s spend a few moments of silence in memory of our ancestors
who were brave enough to sail the seas in such uncivilized days,” Mrs. Taft said somberly, staring out across the water, “and who allowed us the privilege of being born in the United States.”

Mandie didn’t feel any connection just now with this country, or her ancestors who left Holland for America. All she could think of was the mystery of the windmill blades, and the person from the parade who ran from them in the dark. She couldn’t think of any reason why he should avoid them. And she was sure he was the same person who had left the parade with the blond girl. Her memory for faces always rang true.
Did he live near the house where they were staying?
she wondered.
What was he doing in the flower field?

In her reverie, Mandie had loosened her hold on Snowball’s leash. She felt a tug, but managed to hold on to it as her kitten bristled at something on the ground. Leaning forward, Mandie saw a mouse sitting right beside her grandmother’s long skirt.

Trying not to startle Mrs. Taft, Mandie gently touched her arm and spoke in a low voice, “Don’t move, Grandmother. Snowball has found a mouse.”

Mrs. Taft grabbed her long skirts and jumped up from her seat on the wall. The mouse ran in circles and then headed straight for Mrs. Taft’s shoes. Snowball made a quick lunge and caught the rodent in his teeth, shaking it and then letting it go.

“Thank goodness that cat was with us!” Mrs. Taft exclaimed. She sat down again and fanned her face with a lace handkerchief.

The senator seemed at a loss for words. Finally he said, “It’s gone now. When the cat let it go, it ran off.”

“I’m glad he let it go,” Mandie said. “I wouldn’t want him smelling like a mouse.” She made a face. “You’re a pretty smart kitty, Snowball.”

“Remember the mouse in our room back at school?” Celia reminded Mandie. “We were both scared to death, almost.”

“Yes, I remember—”

“Amanda, Jonathan, Celia, I think we’d better be going,” Mrs. Taft addressed the young people as she stood.

“Yes, Grandmother,” Mandie replied as she picked up Snowball.

Thank goodness, this ancestor business is being cut short. Maybe there will still be time to go to the miller’s house
, Mandie thought.

“We must look for some place to eat,” Mrs. Taft said.

“Yes. I haven’t seen anything close by, have you?” Senator Morton asked as he helped her into the carriage.

William, the driver, stood by holding the door. “If I may be so forward, sir, I know of a small inn on the other side of the village. It is nice and clean, and well-patronized by travelers such as yourselves.”

“Thank you, William,” Senator Morton said. Then he turned to Mrs. Taft. “Shall we try the inn that William suggests?”

“Yes, that would be fine. It’s getting late for the noon meal, and I’m sure everyone is hungry.”

“Take us there, William,” Senator Morton told the driver.

The young people couldn’t conceal their delight that food was next on the agenda.

William drove through the village and out onto a country road. Shortly, they came within sight of a picturesque white inn standing in a field of beautiful flowers. Willow trees cast lacy patterns on the outside walls.

Mandie eagerly watched as they approached the structure. There were several other horses and carriages in the pebble-covered yard. William pulled their vehicle up alongside one and jumped down to open the door.

“William was right,” Jonathan observed. “These carriages reveal the status of the patrons here.”

“And aren’t the horses absolutely beautiful!” Celia exclaimed.

“Well, Jonathan, you are the expert on carriages and wealth,” Mandie said, “and Celia, you know all about horses. But I’ll tell you what kind of people own them after we get inside.”

William stepped ahead to open the inn door for Mrs. Taft and Senator Morton. A man in Dutch costume greeted them. The young people stared at the rich interior as they stepped inside. It was like a room out of a palace. Blue velvet draperies hung at the floor-length windows. The tables were covered with white linen and elegantly set with crystal and china. A small group of musicians played soft music at the far end of the room.

“It’s breathtaking!” Mandie exclaimed.

“Of course,” Jonathan acknowledged. “William said it was patronized by travelers such as Mrs. Taft and the senator. Meaning, of course, the wealthy. The owner collects big prices and can afford this kind of a place.”

As the head waiter led them to a table, Mandie observed the faces of the diners already seated. An older man and woman at a table nearby seemed to be in a heated argument in a language that Mandie couldn’t understand.

She sat down between Celia and Jonathan and whispered, “What language are those people speaking?”

Jonathan whispered back, “Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten the sound of Italian. We were just in Italy a short while ago.”

“Oh, Jonathan, I’ve been through so many countries and languages, they’re all jumbled up in my head. What are they talking about?”

“They can’t agree on what to take back home with them for their daughter who is evidently engaged to be married.”

“There is a nice-looking man at the table in front of us who keeps staring at us,” Mandie whispered to her friends without looking at him.

Celia and Jonathan looked at the young man and he smiled at them. Then he waved slightly at Mandie. Mandie felt her face turn red.

“Jonathan, Celia, why did y’all look at him? Now he knows we’re talking about him,” Mandie said, her head bent so the man couldn’t see her face.

“He’s alone. Maybe he’d like to speak to someone. I know how that is from traveling around the world in so many schools—always alone and no one to talk to,” Jonathan said.

“Amanda, Celia, Jonathan, please listen to what the man is saying,” Mrs. Taft spoke across the table.

The three looked up to see that she meant the waiter, who stood waiting to take their orders.

“Now, would you please recite one more time the food that is being served?” Mrs. Taft asked the waiter.

Mandie continued to feel uncomfortable about the man at the next table, who was still looking their way. The waiter spoke rapidly and with a sharp accent, so that Mandie didn’t understand a thing he said until he said “ham.”

“Ham—that’s what I’ll have, please,” Mandie said quickly. At least ham sounded familiar, although she had learned that the names of foods back home weren’t necessarily the same thing in foreign countries.

“I will have the same,” Celia said.

“And add me, please,” Jonathan told the waiter.

Mrs. Taft and the senator had already ordered, and the waiter left the table.

Mandie asked her grandmother, “Where are we going next?”

“I wanted to go to Delft to see the Delftware factory, but I’d like to have plenty of time when we go there, so maybe we’ll save that for tomorrow,” Mrs. Taft replied.

“We could go for a boat ride on a canal this afternoon,” Senator Morton suggested.

“Or we could go see the windmill near the house where we’re staying,” Mandie said quickly, smiling at her grandmother.

“Dear, we don’t know the miller, and one doesn’t just go popping in on strangers. The miller lives there, you know,” her grandmother explained. “And we’d have to get his permission to see the windmill. We’ll have to wait until that can all be arranged.”

“Oh, shucks!” Mandie said with resignation. “So now what?”

“William mentioned that there is to be a flower parade in a village west of here this afternoon. Maybe that would be interesting, since we weren’t able to see the whole parade we happened onto yesterday,” Mrs. Taft said. “Unless, of course, you’d all like to take a boat ride on the canal, as the senator suggests.”

Another flower parade!
Mandie thought quickly.
Maybe the girl and young man we saw leave the other parade would be in this one too
.

“What do you think?” Mandie asked Celia and Jonathan, hoping they’d prefer the parade.

“I’d enjoy the parade, Mrs. Taft,” Celia said.

“Do the same people take part in all the parades?” Jonathan asked. “I suppose you couldn’t possibly know that. Anyway, I’d like to see it, if that’s agreeable to everyone.”

Mrs. Taft looked to the senator. He smiled and nodded, and she added, “Then as soon as we finish eating here, we’ll get William to find the place for us.”

The waiter brought the steaming plates of food. Mandie found the ham to be delicious, but with a slightly sweeter taste than the ham back home. She put some scraps in a saucer and placed it under the table for Snowball, whose leash was tied to the table leg. As she raised up, she caught the young man at the next table looking at her again. She quickly looked away.

“I wish that man—” Mandie began to whisper to her friends. Then
she saw him get up and approach her grandmother. She stopped with her mouth open and listened.

The man bent over slightly to speak to Mrs. Taft. He was tall and blonde, with twinkling blue eyes.

“Madam, please forgive this intrusion, but I believe we are neighbors, temporary though it may be,” he began. Mrs. Taft looked up at him. “My name is Albert Van Dongen. My father owns the flour mill near where you are staying.”

“Flour mill?” Mrs. Taft questioned.

“Yes, madam, the one with the windmill that you can see from your house,” the young man went on.

“The windmill!” Mandie gasped.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself and the others—” Mrs. Taft began.

“That is not necessary, Madam Taft, Senator Morton,” Albert said. “You see, we have servants who carry the news of visitors in the area.”

Senator Morton stood up to shake hands with the young man. “I believe we’ve had some discussion about your father’s windmill,” he said, winking at Mandie and her friends.

“It is just an ordinary windmill, sir. It operates the flour mill,” Albert explained.

“Could we see it, please?” Mandie asked anxiously.

Albert smiled at her and said, “Of course, miss, anytime you wish.”

“Oh, thank you!” Mandie replied, beaming brightly.

“Yes, I’m afraid the young people have been anxious to see your father’s windmill up close,” Mrs. Taft explained. “You see, we don’t have such things back in the United States, where we come from.”

“I have been at the port to take care of some shipments for my father, but I am ready to return home now. Perhaps you would like to come with me,” Albert said to Mrs. Taft.

The three young people held their breath awaiting her reply. Mrs. Taft glanced at them and then asked the senator, “Do you think we should?”

“Of course, why not? The offer is too good to be turned down,” Senator Morton said.

Mandie smiled broadly.

“All right then, Mr. Van Dongen, we will be happy to accept your invitation, provided you think it will be all right with your father,” Mrs. Taft said.

“Of course it will be all right with my father,” Albert assured her. “He enjoys showing off his windmill anytime.” He turned to smile at Mandie and then added, “I am riding my horse, but I will follow your carriage.”

“Thank you. We’re ready to go now,” Mrs. Taft said as she rose. “Don’t forget your cat, Amanda.”

“Yes, Grandmother,” Mandie said, ducking under the table to untie Snowball’s leash and pick him up.

As they approached their carriage outside, and Albert went to get his horse from the hitching rack, Celia exclaimed, “Oh, look! That beautiful stallion belongs to him! I wish I could ride it.”

“Celia, that’s a pretty big horse for a young girl like you,” Jonathan said as the three climbed into the carriage and sat down.

“Oh, Jonathan, you forget that I was raised with horses. We have a horse farm in Virginia, you know...”

Mrs. Taft spoke to all of them, “Amanda, Celia, Jonathan, I want you to be on your best behavior at this house. We are not really going about this visit in a very proper manner. We should have been introduced to Mr. Van Dongen himself before we accepted the invitation.”

“But, Grandmother, we have so little time here in Holland that we might never have met him properly,” Mandie argued, holding Snowball in her lap. “Thank you so much for accepting Albert’s invitation.”

“Amanda! We are not on a first-name basis with these people. The young man’s name is Mr. Van Dongen, just like his father,” Mrs. Taft corrected.

“But, Grandmother, I don’t believe he is much older than I am, even though he did say he had been to the port on his father’s business,” Mandie said.

“Nonetheless, we will at least stay proper in that respect, and you will all call him Mr. Van Dongen, unless he instructs you to use his first name,” Mrs. Taft told Mandie and the others.

The three nodded their agreement.