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can't be mended.' So he helped her to carry the
mattress up into the attic, and it was put in Uncle
Frans's little room.
For days after he could be seen peering at the walls
and ceilings, he fingered .them and scratched at the
paint. It was obvious that his thoughts were
perpetually occupied with the accident. c Wouldn't
it be better to pull the whole house down and build
a new one ?' he asked. Werendonk answered,
without looking at him : c You don't know what
you're talking about.' And when they were alone.
Uncle Frans said : ' No, indeed, you don't know
what you're talking about, the house where your
Uncle Gerbrand and your mother were born, and
your grandfather and your great-grandfather, and
their fathers and grandfathers. Maybe it's a bit
dark and not so convenient as the new houses, but
we must put up with that considering all the good
things that an ancestral home brings us.3
The first evenings he only stayed out for an hour
or so, and then he sat for a while with Stien in the
kitchen. With the Bible open in front of her, she
would chatter to him as though she knew he needed
cheering up, but she found it difficult, for there were
things she couldn't mention, and when she asked
him questions, he answered gruffly. There was
something weighing on his heart, and she daren't
ask about that. Sometimes he looked at her as
though he would like to tell her something. She