ids
the train he sat staring in front of him, his teeth
clenched, his fists balled. Why he had run away
was nobody's business, he would never speak about
it and he would struggle with himself, alone, without
help.
The shop was full of customers when he walked in
with a pale but smiling face. The first to ask him
anything was Stien, who came out of the kitchen in a
state of agitation. He answered casually that he had
been to pay a visit to his uncle in Hoorn, and he
said the same thing to Uncle Gerbrand at dinner.
Werendonk was silent, and Uncle Frans, too, asked
him no questions. When they got up from table,
Werendonk said : c My boy, you're telling lies
again, for you were seen leaving the house as though
you were running away. And if you won't confess,
all I have to say is : don't do it again.5 Floris sat
with bowed head.
He stayed in his little room under the skylight
with the feeling that he was a prisoner. He looked
at the wainscoting, pasted over with grey paper, at
the old bedstead where he would have to lie again,
the boards of the floor, neatly scrubbed. The
summer sky gleamed through the square window.
The holidays would last fully another three weeks,
and he would have to sit here, for when the Fair
began tomorrow, he wouldn't dare to go out for fear
of meeting his friends.
He sat alone and from boredom he read his school-