asylum? or a nursing home? Babies! What in Heaven's name am I to
do with them? Babies! Where are those babies?"

"Just outside, and very nice babies indeed," says the nurse, opening
the hall door and giving a soft call.

Enter a slim black-haired boy of about three and a half years and
a plump golden-haired girl about a year younger. They toddle to
the nurse and snuggle against her blue dress and white apron.

Smiling she guides them toward the commandant and says: "Here they
are, sir. How do you like them?"

That terrific personage has been suddenly transformed from haircloth
into silk. He beams, and pulling out his fat gold watch, coos like
a hoarse dove: "Look here, _kinderen_, come and hear the bells
in my tick-tock!"

Presently he has one of them leaning against the inside of each
knee, listening ardently to the watch.

"What do you think of that!" he says. "What is your name, youngster?"

"Hendrik," answers the boy, looking up.

"Hendrik _what?_ You have another name, haven't you?"

The boy shakes his head and looks puzzled, as if the thought of
two names were too much for him. _"Hendrik,"_ he repeats more
clearly and firmly.