NEW FRIENDS
Philippe lay in bed and thought of Tom and of Zelie. Yes, mostly he
thought of Zelie. He would never see her again. Tom was taking her away
in the morning. What a pity!
She was the most interesting little friend the boy had ever had. Now he
would be lonely again. Rose was still so young.
Of course, he had his books. But he did so long to wander through the
country. It was summer time, and there was no school. Oh, happy Zelie!
[Illustration: HE DID SO LONG TO WANDER THROUGH THE COUNTRY]
"But was she really happy?" Philippe wondered.
She had once told him that she had to push the big organ about while
they begged their way.
It was a heavy thing, that organ, and Philippe had asked, "Doesn't it
tire you, Zelie?"
Zelie had looked quickly at her father and had caught Tom's gleaming
eye.
"No," she had replied, "it is fun."
Philippe had envied her. If he might go along, he could push the organ
for her. He was strong. And he might help Tom, too.
Philippe did not know what his friend Tom was doing just at this moment.
As Philippe lay in his comfortable little bed, he did not know that Tom
was stealing his father's vegetables. Philippe did not know that poor
Zelie was right under the window with Tom, helping to steal Papa Pomme's
vegetables.
The next morning Emile Spinach ran into the house, very much excited.
"The vegetable thief has been in the garden, sir!" he cried to Papa
Pomme.
Sure enough, their little farm had been robbed.
When Philippe and Rose arrived at the market place, the booth next to
theirs was empty.
Of course Philippe never dreamed that Tom was the thief. He missed his
neighbors sadly. He pictured them pushing along the organ and playing in
market places all over Belgium. He thought of them strolling along the
pleasant roads.
He could hear Tom's gay whistle. He could see Zelie's little dark face.
He wondered whether Zelie would sing the songs he had taught her. She
had a pretty voice. She was not so small and cunning as Baby Rose, but
she had a charm of her own.
Philippe became discontented. He sometimes wandered about the streets
instead of staying in the market place. Of course, he only did this when
Emile Spinach was there to stay with Rose.
Philippe was quieter than usual.
Papa Pomme said one day to Mother Yvelle, "I am worried about the boy.
He is different. Something bothers him."
[Illustration: "SOMETHING BOTHERS HIM"]
Papa Pomme did worry about Philippe. Papa Pomme worried so much that
once he put sugar in the soup and salt in the pastry. The manager of
the restaurant scolded Papa Pomme.
[Illustration: PUT SALT IN THE PASTRY]
One day Philippe was walking toward his father's restaurant. As he
approached, a taxicab drove up and stopped a few doors away. Two
gentlemen stepped out.
Philippe smiled as he heard one of the gentlemen ask the taxi driver,
"Can you direct us to a restaurant?"
The gentleman had a very funny French accent. He continued, "We have
heard so much about this delicious Belgian food. We are very hungry."
The taxi driver must have been hungry, too. He evidently wanted to be
off to his own lunch.
For he replied sharply, "There are many restaurants. Just walk along any
street. They can always be smelled!"
The unobliging taxi driver laughed at his own stupid joke. Then he
started his motor and was off.
The two gentlemen stood for a moment looking at each other. Then one
said something in a language that Philippe did not understand. But he
felt sure that it was English.
The little boy walked over to the gentlemen.
"Excuse me, sirs," he began in French. "I heard you asking for a place
to eat. I can take you to the best restaurant in Brussels."
The gentlemen looked at the little Belgian boy standing before them.
Then one of them smiled and said something in English to the other.
Philippe did not understand the words, but if you had been there you
would have heard the gentleman say to his friend, "Let us take his word
for it. He may know something about food. Boys usually do."
The other one laughed and said in French to Philippe, "Thank you. We
shall be glad to follow you."
Of course, Philippe led the gentlemen to his father's restaurant. He
held the door open for them to enter, and started to leave.
But the gentleman who spoke French said, "Come! Wouldn't you like to
lunch with us? You might tell us a bit about the art of Belgian eating.
What do you say?"
"Thank you," said Philippe.
He could always eat. His dreams did not prevent that.
So the two foreign gentlemen and the little Belgian boy sat down to
lunch. Philippe showed them how a Belgian orders a meal. They were
amused at the child's knowledge of all these fine dishes. They asked him
how he knew so much. Philippe then told them about Papa Pomme.
"Aha!" exclaimed the gentleman who spoke French. "It is a fine thing for
a boy to have a papa who is a chef. Is it not?"
Philippe laughed and agreed. Then the same gentleman told about himself.
He said, "My friend and I are touring through Belgium. My friend is an
American. It is his first trip over here. I am from England. We are
leaving tomorrow for Antwerp. Today we are going to see the sights of
Brussels."
Philippe did full justice to the food spread before him. The men watched
the hungry boy with great amusement.
The Englishman said, "Well, I must say you do eat well!"
Philippe stopped long enough to look up into his face and reply
roguishly, "Yes, sir. I have been practicing all my life!"
The two gentlemen laughed. The Englishman had, of course, translated the
words to his friend. They thought Philippe a very jolly lad. They did
not know how really discontented he was. How little we can tell
sometimes by looking at people what is really going on in their hearts!
"But now tell us," asked the Englishman. "Have you always lived in
Brussels?"
"I have lived here all my life," Philippe answered. He then added
timidly, "If you would like me to take you around the city after lunch I
could show you many interesting sights. There are few places I do not
know in Brussels."
"An excellent plan," cried the Englishman.
[Illustration: PLACE DE BRUGÈRE, BRUSSELS]
Then he told his friend, the American, what the Belgian boy had offered
to do.
"Good!" said the American in English. "And I hope he knows as much about
cities as he does about food. For then we shall find our minds stuffed
as full as our stomachs!"