THE CITY OF SISTERS
Philippe approached the great Convent of Ghent. This convent is
different from most convents. It is like a little village where each
sister has her own cosy house. These sisters have given up the life of
the world. They live their own lives in this City of Sisters. They spend
their time making beautiful laces, doing charity work and going to
church.
Philippe had heard of the convent in Ghent. He had seen some of the
sisters in Brussels at times. He knew they were kind and he determined
to enter one of their homes and ask for food.
At the gate of the convent, Philippe met an elderly sister. She wore a
long black gown and a snow-white cap. Her face was ruddy and wrinkled.
She smiled at Philippe and stopped.
"You look tired, little one," she said.
Philippe answered, "I have walked many miles. I am hungry."
The sister then led him into her wee house. It looked like a gingerbread
house. It was like all the other houses at the convent. It was made of
brick.
"Come, let me give you some broth," said the sister kindly.
And she gave Philippe a bowl of delicious broth. They sat together in
her neat little room.
When Philippe finished the broth he said, "Thank you, my sister. You are
very kind." Then he told her his story.
"I must go on to Bruges," he finished "For the fair is in Bruges, and I
shall find my friends there."
[Illustration: THE GREAT CONVENT OF GHENT]
The sister looked serious.
"My boy, does your mother know what you are doing?" she asked.
Philippe shook his head slowly and said, "But I shall write to her now
if you will please give me a pen and some paper."
After he had written to his parents, the boy looked up and found the
good sister's gaze upon him.
"Why don't you give up this idea and go home?" she asked.
But Philippe laughed.
"Oh, no," he replied, "I could not do that now. Why, Tom says I shall
make great sums of money! Tom is a fine fellow! Oh, my parents will be
glad that I went, when I make them rich."
But still the sister seemed worried.
"Stay with me a day or so," she urged. "You are worn out with your long
walk. Let me give you rest and food. Then perhaps we may find a way to
send you to Bruges."
Philippe patted her rough, capable hand.
"Thank you, my sister," he said, "but I must waste no time."
Then the sister arose and went to a little table. She took from a
drawer a linen bag. From the bag she brought forth some money.
[Illustration: SISTERS OF THE CONVENT]
Handing it to Philippe, she said, "Take this, little one, and ride to
Bruges on it. That way you will reach your friends quickly and save your
strength."
Philippe hesitated at first.
Then he took the money and said, "I can never thank you enough. But I
shall return this money to you. You shall see."
After Philippe had washed and prepared to leave, he said to his new
friend, "I have heard so much about the fine lace which is made by the
sisters of the convent. May I see some of it?"
The good woman smiled and led the boy to another room to show him her
work.
But suddenly Philippe started and looked about him with troubled eyes.
"My sister!" he cried, "I had a little dog. I almost forgot about him!"
"I saw your little dog," the sister answered. "He came in with you. But
now he has disappeared."
Philippe began calling, "Trompke! Trompke!"
The sister helped him search the house.
"I cannot imagine where he went," exclaimed the sister.
Then they saw a strange sight.
From the big workbasket, where the sister kept her lace, came Trompke.
He was completely wrapped in beautiful lace. He looked like a bride. His
train was long and flowing. Upon his head was a lace cap. His dog face
peered forth anxiously.
[Illustration: HIS DOG FACE PEERED FORTH ANXIOUSLY]
His tail stirred the lace train as it wagged, as if it were asking,
"Were you looking for me?" For, you know, dogs speak with their tails.
Trompke waddled up to Philippe and continued to talk in tail language as
if he were saying, "I was fast asleep in the workbasket. I was very
tired. The lace was soft."
As soon as Philippe recovered from his amazement, he fell on his knees
and began to untangle the lace from the dog's body.
"Oh, Trompke! Shame, Trompke!" he cried.
But the sister was laughing so hard that her kind, red face grew even
redder than usual.
"Do not scold him," she said, "He did no harm. Oh, what a funny sight!"
And again the good sister went into peals of laughter. Her mirth started
Philippe to thinking. A plan was forming in his mind.
Suddenly he jumped to his feet and exclaimed, "My sister, I have thought
of a plan!"
The sister wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes. She listened to
the boy.
"It suddenly came to me as you were laughing," he said, "that if the
sight of Trompke seemed so funny to you, why would it not be funny to
others?"
The sister gave signs of exploding again at the mention of lace-gowned
Trompke.
But Philippe went on, "Give me some of your lace. I will dress Trompke
as a bride in the market place of Bruges. People will stop. And when
they stop, I shall sell them your lace. I shall be able, then, to repay
you."
The sister looked into Philippe's eyes. She seemed much interested in
what he had said.
She replied, "You have thought of a very clever plan. You are one who
will make much of your life. That is plain to see."
Without wasting any time, the sister and Philippe prepared for the boy's
journey.
Soon Philippe was leaving the tiny house with a bundle of lace tucked
under his arm. His good friend walked with him as far as the gates of
the convent.
As Philippe looked back, he saw the sister standing at the big iron
gates, waving to him.
She looked after him and thought, "What a clever little fellow he is!"
She did not know what a disobedient little fellow Philippe really was.
Also, she did not know that she was sending him to a thief. But then,
neither did Philippe know this. He had told her that Tom and Zelie were
his friends and that they were fine people. Philippe honestly believed
this.
As he walked, he turned every little while to wave back to the sister.
At last the City of Sisters faded from sight.