Another movement. The large hand, so white and soft for a poor man's hand, twitched--then raised itself steadily toward the forehead. It felt the bandage, not in a restless, crazy way, but with a questioning movement, that caused even Dr. Boekman to hold his breath. Then the eyes opened slowly. "Steady! steady!" said a voice that sounded very strangely to Gretel. "Shift that mat higher, boys! now throw on the clay. The waters are rising fast--no time to----" Dame Brinker sprang forward like a young panther. She seized his hands, and leaning over him, cried, "Raff! Raff, boy, speak to me!" "Is it you, Meitje?" he asked faintly--"I have been asleep, hurt, I think--where is little Hans?" "Here I am, father!" shouted Hans half mad with joy. But the doctor held him back. "He knows us!" screamed Dame Brinker. "Great God! he knows us! Gretel! Gretel! come, see your father!" In vain Dr. Boekman commanded "silence!" and tried to force them from the bedside. He could not keep them off. Hans and his mother laughed and cried together, as they hung over the newly-awakened man. Gretel made no sound, but gazed at them all with glad, startled eyes. Her father was speaking in a faint voice. "Is the baby asleep, Meitje?" "The baby!" echoed Dame Brinker. "Oh, Gretel! that is _you_! And he calls Hans, 'little Hans.' Ten years asleep! Oh, mynheer, you have saved us all. He has known nothing for ten years! Children, why don't you thank the meester?" The good woman was beside herself with joy. Dr. Boekman said nothing; but as his eye met hers, he pointed upward. She understood. So did Hans and Gretel. With one accord they knelt by the cot, side by side. Dame Brinker felt for her husband's hand even while she was praying. Dr. Boekman's head was bowed; the assistant stood by the hearth with his back toward them. "Why do you pray?" murmured the father, looking feebly from the bed, as they rose. "Is it God's day?" It was not Sunday; but his vrouw bowed her head--she could not speak. [Illustration: _There was a movement upon the bed_] "Then we should have a chapter," said Raff Brinker, speaking slowly, and with difficulty. "I do not know how it is. I am very, very weak. Mayhap the minister will read to us." Gretel lifted the big Dutch Bible from its carved shelf. Dr. Boekman, rather dismayed at being called a minister, coughed and handed the volume to his assistant. "Read," he muttered; "these people must be kept quiet or the man will die yet." When the chapter was finished, Dame Brinker motioned mysteriously to the rest by way of telling them that her husband was asleep. "Now, jufvrouw," said the doctor in a subdued tone, as he drew on his thick woolen mittens, "there must be perfect quiet. You understand. This is truly a most remarkable case. I shall come again to-morrow. Give the patient no food to-day," and, bowing hastily, he left the cottage, followed by his assistant.