THE RUMORS

THE RUMORS

When Mother Van Hove returned from the pasture, fifteen minutes
later, her orders had all been carried out. Pier was in the
pasture, the hens were shut up for the night, and the pig, which
had been squealing with hunger, was row grunting with
satisfaction over her evening meal; Fidel was gnawing a bone, and
Father Van Hove was already washing his hands at the pump, beside
the kitchen door.

"You are all good children," said the mother as she set down her
brimming pail and took her turn at the wash-basin and the soap.
"Jan and Marie, have you washed your hands?"

"I have," called Marie from the kitchen, and supper is ready and
the table set."

"I washed my hands in the canal this morning," pleaded Jan.
"Won't that do?"

"You ate your lunch this noon, too," answered his mother
promptly. "Won't that do? Why do you need to eat again when you
have already eaten twice today?"

"Because I am hungry again," answered Jan.

"Well, you are also dirty again," said his mother, as she put the
soap in his hands and wiped her own on the clean towel which