answered that he came from Haarlem, was a nephew
of the Werendonks, and that was all they could get
out of him in answer to their questions. Then a
woman came in whom he was told to call " Aunt,"
followed by another tall woman leading a child by
the hand. ' Well/ said his uncle, when he had
grasped that Floris had run away from home, c you
can stay here for tonight, but then you'll have to go
back, for I can't keep you here, nothing from brother
Gerbrand's is any good. I'll give you money for the
journey.' The woman led him away to brush the
dirt from his shoes and to wash his hands ; she didn't
speak and left him alone. After that he was given
some bread-and-butter at a table in the coffee-
room, while his uncle sat opposite him, quietly
smoking his pipe and staring at him. When the
plate was empty, he said : ' Well, so you're the
son of that fellow Berkenrode. And why have you
run away ? '
Floris sat without answering, his eyes lowered.
At last he ventured to ask what time there was a train
the next day.
When he had stretched out his stiff legs in bed, he
thought of the house in Little Houtstraat, the echo-
ing rooms and passages, the grey walls that filled him
with fear.
In the early morning he went away; his uncle
stood at the door looking after him. At the corner
he turned round, but he didn't wave his hand. In