re
that had given Leentje such a fright. His eyes shone, and the boy,
who but a moment ago did not know how he was to write some rhymes,
was filled with the feelings and emotions that make poets of men.

"O Fancy, Fancy, to die for thee--to die with such a kiss on the lips!"

It hurt him to think that the boys were gone. If there had been ten
of them he would have had courage for the unequal fight.

And Femke, who had never heard of poetical overflows, understood him
immediately, for she was a pure, innocent girl. She felt Walter's
chivalry, and knew that she was the lady to reward it.

"You are a dear sweet boy," she said, taking his head between her
hands and kissing him again, and again--as if she had done something
of this kind before. But such was not the case.

"And now you must read the verses in the little book. Maybe it will
help you to write for your aunt----"

"She isn't my aunt," Walter said, "but of course I will look through
the book."

He laid it on the railing of the bridge and began to read. Femke,
who was taller than he, had put one arm around his neck, while with
the other hand she was pointing out what he should read.

"Don't you see?" she said, "the lines are the same length."

"Yes, but they don't rhyme." And Walter read:

Mother most pure,
Mother undefiled,
Virgin most powerful,
Virgin most merciful,
Virgin most faithful,
Spiritual vessel,
Vessel of honor,
Vessel of singular devotion,
Mystical rose,
Tower of David,
Tower of Ivory,
Gate of Heaven----

"But, Femke, how am I to use that for my poem? I don't understand
any of it."

Femke didn't understand much of it either. She had been reading the
book every day for the past four or five years, and she had always been
satisfied with her comprehension of it. But now she saw that she was
as ignorant about it as Walter. She was ashamed and closed the book.

"But don't you know what Faith is?" she asked, as if this defect
might account for the general ignorance of both.

"Not that way," Walter replied. "I learned it another way."

"But you believe in Jesus, don't you?"

"Oh, yes. That's God's son. But I didn't learn anything about vessels
and towers. Do they belong to faith?"

"Why, certainly! But you know the holy virgin, Maria!"

"So? Maria? No, I don't."

"And Purgatory?"

"I don't know anything about it."

"And confession?"

"No."

"What do you do then?"

"How