Jumping down, he walked toward his father and placed an oblong block of pine wood in his hands. One of its ends was rounded off, and some deep cuts had been made on the top.
"Do you know what that is, Father?" asked Hans.
Raff Brinker's face brightened. "Indeed I do, boy! It is the boat I was making you yest--alack, not yesterday, but years ago."
"I have kept it ever since, Father. It can be finished when your hand grows strong again."
"Yes, but not for you, my lad. I must wait for the grandchildren. Why, you are nearly a man. Have you helped your mother through all these years?"
"Aye and bravely," put in Dame Brinker.
"Let me see," muttered the father, looking in a puzzled way at them all, "how long is it since the night when the waters were coming in? 'Tis the last I remember."
"We have told thee true, Raff. It was ten years last Pinxter week."