Mandie Collection, The: 4 (71 page)

As William drove their carriage down the country road, Mandie saw Albert riding alongside the carriage. Now and then he would look directly through the window at her and smile. She felt strangely
uncomfortable. She had never experienced such a feeling toward a young man before. What was it about him that made her want to look away?

“It certainly was nice of Mr. Van Dongen to ask us home with him, wasn’t it?” Celia remarked.

“Yes, it was,” Mandie said. “I’m so anxious to see his father’s windmill and find out about the position of the blades.” She noticed that her grandmother was busy talking to the senator and was not paying attention to their conversation.

“Mandie, I think you are trying to ignore the fact that this Albert Van Dongen was instantly smitten with you,” Jonathan teased, wearing his mischievous smile.

Mandie felt her face turn red as she tried to come up with an answer. “Jonathan Guyer, stop that!” she said, bending quickly to pet Snowball, who was sitting on the floor at her feet.

“Didn’t you think it strange that he happened to be in the same eating place as we were?” Jonathan continued. “He probably put William up to recommending that inn so he could meet you there.”

“Jonathan!” Mandie said angrily. “You are talking nonsense and I don’t want to hear any more about it. Now we will only discuss the windmill, which is the only reason we’re going to the miller’s house.”

“If you say so,” Jonathan said, sitting back in his seat.

Mandie’s mind was confused as they rode along. She wanted to ask the miller why the blades were in the unusual position they saw them in the night before. But her thoughts kept turning to his good-looking son, and then she would feel her face get warm again. She resolved she would ignore Albert when they got to his home and only talk to his father.

At that moment Albert rode by the window, smiling at her, and she wondered how she would ever be able to ignore him.

CHAPTER SIX

MR. VAN DONGEN’S DENIAL

William pulled their carriage up in front of what everyone had been calling “the miller’s cottage.” It looked like a mansion to Mandie compared with the house they were renting. Evidently being a miller must be a very lucrative occupation. And seeing the windmill up close, it was huge.

As the three young people stepped down from the vehicle behind Mrs. Taft and Senator Morton, Mandie suddenly found Albert standing by her side. He smiled at her and then spoke to Mrs. Taft, “Madam, if you will please, follow me. My father is at home doing bookwork. The mill is not operating today.”

He opened a glass-paned front door and showed them into an elaborate parlor. It was very formal and very rich-looking, Mandie decided, done in hues of blue and green. Snowball squirmed to get down.

“No, no, Snowball, be still,” Mandie scolded, holding him tightly in her arms.

“It is all right for him to get down,” Albert said. “We also have a cat who runs loose in the house. I will bring him in to play with your cat.” Turning to Mrs. Taft he said, “Madam, if you would please all take seats, I will get my father.”

“Thank you,” Mrs. Taft replied as everyone found a place to sit.

Albert smiled again at Mandie and quickly left the room. Mandie sat on a chair by the door, still holding Snowball in her lap.

“Did you notice the position of the windmill’s blades?” Jonathan asked. “They were stopped at one-thirty, four-thirty, seven-thirty, and ten-thirty.”

“Oh, no,” Mandie said with a big sigh. “I plumb forgot with all the excitement of coming here.”

“It is exciting to unexpectedly meet the miller’s son, and then get invited right into his home, isn’t it?” Celia said.

“I guess so, if you’re a girl,” Jonathan said with a grin.

“If you’re jealous because Albert smiled at Celia and me, then maybe you should treat us more like
girls
,” Mandie told him, her blue eyes twinkling. “We might love you for it.”

The remark made Jonathan blush, just as Mandie figured it would. And she also felt they were even now when it came to teasing.

Celia smiled but didn’t say a word.

At that moment Albert returned, saving Jonathan the need to answer Mandie.

Albert’s father was with him, and Mandie saw at once that Albert was an exact younger duplicate of his father, right down to the smile.

Mr. Van Dongen stepped forward to take Mrs. Taft’s hand and introduce himself before Albert had the chance.

“Madam, what a pleasure indeed,” he said, bending to kiss her hand. “I am Albert Van Dongen, the same as my son, except I am the first and he is the second.” He spoke with a clipped accent. “Welcome to my humble home.”

“Thank you, Mr. Van Dongen. I do hope you’ll forgive this sudden visit. Your son invited us, assuring us it would be all right,” Mrs. Taft said, smiling up at the tall man. She introduced Senator Morton, and then the young people.

After exchanging greetings, Mr. Van Dongen sat down near the adults. “Albert, please make a seat for yourself,” he told his son. As Albert sat down near Mandie and her friends, his father continued, “My son is so excited to meet people from the United States of America, because he will be going to school there when the next term opens.”

“How wonderful!” Mrs. Taft enthused.

While the adults were occupied with their own conversation, Mandie was still having trouble with Snowball squirming in her arms,
and at that moment he managed to escape. She grabbed for him but he raced to smell Albert’s shoes, and then he jumped into the young man’s lap.

“Oh, the cat! I forgot,” Albert said, quickly standing up and placing Snowball on the floor. “I will get him,” he said, leaving the room quickly.

“So he is going to the United States to school,” Mandie said quietly to her friends. “I wonder what school, and where?”

“Ask him,” Celia said.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t do that,” Mandie said, suddenly shy at the prospect.

“Why not?” Jonathan said, just as Albert returned with a beautiful gray cat, much larger than Snowball. He sat him on the floor and the young people waited and watched to see how the two would react.

Snowball spit at the gray cat, who sat there staring at him. Then the white kitten slowly edged forward to smell the other cat. Albert’s cat looked down its nose at Snowball until Snowball was just inches from him. Then he suddenly bristled his fur and began backing away. Snowball meowed and followed him.

Mandie laughed. “I believe your cat is afraid of mine,” she told Albert.

Albert also laughed and said, “Not afraid. Surprised. It is the first time he has ever seen another cat that I know of.”

The three young people looked at Albert in disbelief.

“He has never seen another cat? Don’t you people have cats in Holland?” Mandie asked.

“Yes, lots of cats, but not in this house,” Albert replied. He is not allowed to run loose. And the Widow DeWeese’s cat died before we got this one. He was allowed in the mill because of rats.”

“Did you say DeWeese? That’s a family name in North Carolina where I come from,” Mandie said.

“But this lady is from France. She is French,” Albert said.

“Maybe the people back home by that name came from France,” Mandie said, and then changing the subject, she asked, “Is your father going to show us the windmill?”

“Of course, after he makes your grandmother and the senator welcome,” Albert explained.

Mandie noticed that Snowball and the gray cat had finally become
friends and were rolling around on the floor. Mr. Van Dongen kept talking to her grandmother and the senator, and Mandie was feeling increasingly uncomfortable with Albert. His constant smiling at her made her feel embarrassed, because she knew Jonathan was watching.

Finally Mr. Van Dongen stopped talking to the adults and turned to converse with the young people. He moved to a chair nearer them, after excusing himself to Mrs. Taft.

“Welcome to my house,” he said. “So you are Mrs. Taft’s granddaughter, Amanda.”

“Yes, sir, I am,” Mandie said. “My friends call me Mandie for short. You have a beautiful home, Mr. Van Dongen.”

The man glanced around, spread his hands and said, “Not like when my wife was living. The maid has no one to supervise her.” He turned to look at Celia, “And you are Celia.”

Celia smiled and nodded. “Yes, sir,” she said. “Celia Hamilton. Mandie is my best friend.”

“And you, young fellow, are the son of Mr. Lindall Guyer, whose family left Holland many, many years ago to live in the United States of America, I understand.”

“You know my father, sir?” Jonathan asked in surprise.

“No, I do not know your father. I know
of
him,” the man said, smiling.

Jonathan shrugged his shoulders and said, “Seems like everywhere we go someone knows my father’s name.”

“Yes, he is well known all over Europe. He is involved in so many business dealings, which are usually written about in the newspapers,” Mr. Van Dongen explained.

“What kind of business dealings has my father had here in your country, Mr. Van Dongen?” Jonathan asked with great interest.

“Just a few weeks ago he contributed a large sum of money to a school our young Queen Wilhelmina has established for the poorer children. She is now a young woman of twenty-one and is interested in such work,” Mr. Van Dongen explained.

Jonathan turned to explain to the girls: “Queen Wilhelmina became queen of the Netherlands at the age of ten when her father, William III, died.”

The girls gasped. Mandie said to Mr. Van Dongen, “You had a ten-year-old girl ruling the country?”

Mr. Van Dongen smiled and explained, “It is not like the presidency of your country. Queen Wilhelmina’s mother, Emma of Waldeck-Pyrmont, was regent until Wilhelmina became eighteen years old in 1898.”

“Why couldn’t her mother be the queen?” Mandie asked.

“Because the royal family descends on her father’s side, not her mother’s,” Mr. Van Dongen said. “All the way back to William of Orange, the forefather of the royal family.”

Mrs. Taft spoke from across the room, “Amanda, we will be going to Delft to the Delftware factory. Delft is called the City of Princes and was also the city of William of Orange.”

Mandie asked, “Will we be able to see Queen Wilhelmina, Grandmother?”

Mrs. Taft smiled and said, “No, dear, I’m afraid we aren’t acquainted with the queen.”

“If you stay long enough you will most likely see the queen in some public event,” Mr. Van Dongen told Mandie.

Mandie shook her head and said, “We’re only here for a short visit. We have to go on to Ireland.”

“Yes, you see, I have been taking the young people on a tour of Europe, and in order to see a lot of countries we can’t spend much time in any particular place,” Mrs. Taft explained. “We still have Ireland, Scotland, Wales, and England to visit. Then we have to rush home for the young people to get into school on time.”

“Then you must return to our country and plan to stay longer next time,” Mr. Van Dongen told Mrs. Taft. “We would be honored to have you all as our guests here in our home.”

“Thank you, Mr. Van Dongen. Maybe we will some time,” Mrs. Taft said.

“That’s very gracious of you, sir,” Senator Morton said.

Mandie was getting impatient with the conversation. All she wanted to do was see the windmill and ask the miller about the setting of the blades the night before. She kept looking at her friends, who only shook their heads slightly.

Suddenly Mandie made a decision. She bent slightly toward Albert and said softly, “The windmill, please.”

“Of course, of course,” Albert quickly replied. He stood up and looked at his father. “Pardon the intrusion, Papa, but Mandie and Celia
and Jonathan would like to see the windmill, if you will allow me to show it to them.”

Mr. Van Dongen immediately apologized to Mrs. Taft. “I am sorry for the delay in seeing the windmill.”

“Oh, no, sir, I have seen quite a few windmills in my lifetime, and I’m sure the senator has also; so with your permission, please allow the young people to go ahead with your son, Albert,” Mrs. Taft replied.

“Yes, yes,” Senator Morton agreed.

“You may go, then, Albert, but be careful. Our young guests are not familiar with the mechanism of the windmill,” Mr. Van Dongen cautioned.

“Yes, sir,” Albert said.

“We’ll be fine,” Mandie told her grandmother, who eyed her carefully. As the young people stood to leave, Mandie suddenly remembered her kitten. “Albert, should I take Snowball with me?”

“Of course, and I will take our cat,” Albert said, bending to pick up the huge gray animal.

“Doesn’t your cat have a name?” Mandie asked as she reached for Snowball.

“Oh, yes, his name is Flour Rat,” Albert said as they walked toward the door of the room.

The three young people stopped and laughed, and Mandie said, “Flour Rat? What a name for a cat.”

“He has earned it,” Albert explained as he led the way through the house. “He keeps the rats out of our flour. He is an intelligent animal.”

Mandie looked at her friends and smiled behind Albert’s back.

As they entered the huge room that turned out to be the flour mill, Albert showed them the mechanism that was turned by the revolving blades of the windmill.

“Of course you must know that the wind turns the blades. The sails are made of lightweight canvas, and once the wind strikes them they rotate very fast,” Albert said. “The wheat is ground and sifted here, and the finished result is the flour over there in the barrels.”

The young people listened to every word, and Mandie’s mind traveled through the operation. Back home in the North Carolina mountains where she came from, people used waterwheels for such work. And
the Cherokees beat the wheat grain by hand to dislodge the meal that made the flour. The windmill was something different to see.

Albert put Flour Rat down, and the cat immediately began poking around the floor. Snowball was squirming to join him.

“It is all right if Snowball joins Flour Rat,” Albert said with a smile at Mandie.

Mandie hesitated. The mill was huge and Snowball could find plenty of hiding places. “Well, I’ll let him down on his leash,” she said as she put the kitten on the floor and held tightly to the end of his red leash. “He runs away every chance he gets.”