White Sand and Grey Sand by Stella Gibbons

Author:Stella Gibbons
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781448103409
Publisher: Random House

AS SHE PACED beside the large, nodding head of Klaartje on the way down to the sea, on a day when the Ruddlins’ holiday in Belgium was slightly more than halfway through its course, Ydette was feeling a little sad, but not—not really—surprised. This was not the first time that tourists had shown friendliness to her one morning and a cool manner the next, and perhaps (she thought) she had almost been prepared for such an attitude on the part of Mejuffrouw Nora, for hadn’t she thought of her, from that first moment when she had looked up and seen her standing there with the little Ida in her hand, as the cross girl? It was only when Mijnheer Adriaan had come up, and Ydette had learned that the two visitors were friends of the van Roeslaeres, that she had looked at them with anything more than the friendly, but business-like, glance which she gave to all touristry, and it was only because of the connection with the big house that she minded Mejuffrouw Nora not saying good-morning to her, or smiling good-bye when she came to take away Ida after her daily ride (a treat which Ydette, secretly defying the aunts, had more than once contrived for her to enjoy without payment).

The two girls, the cross one and the little one, had stayed at the foot of the dune as usual for a little while this morning after Ida’s ride was over, the cross one reading her book (what a big one, it must be something to do with lessons) and the little one digging in the sand; occasionally she ran over to bestow on Klaartje, as he rested between his excursions to the waves, a series of pats smart enough to startle a smaller horse but felt by him no more than the feet of an alighting fly. These visits, however, had ceased towards twelve o’clock, when Ydette saw Ida checked in the act of running towards her, and held for a moment, straining unwillingly away, while a warning and a lecture were evidently being delivered. Then Nora returned to her book and Ida had to content herself with an occasional frantic waving of her spade in Ydette’s direction. It was unkind of the mejuffrouw. Why shouldn’t Ida come?

It didn’t matter. Quickly, as the morning passed away, Ydette lifted the warm, small bodies up in her arms and settled each child comfortably on the low benches in the cart.

“All right? Comfy?” (She had found that in one of the English books lent to her by Madame van Roeslaere and she always used it to the English children.) “Allons!” and down to Klaartje’s head she would go, and take up the leading string. The children sat in two rows, smiling in anticipation or looking rather apprehensive; some eyes would be fixed in delightful expectancy upon Klaartje. Could that mountain really be going to move?

“Gee up! Getalong!” A gentle tug at the reins, and they are off; Klaartje not so

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