"
"Peter de Groodt's a ninny--an old woman," said the doctor, peevishly;
"I'll warrant he's been filling these people's heads full of stories.
It's just like his nonsense about the ghost that haunted the church
belfry, as an excuse for not ringing the bell that cold night when
Hermanus Brinkerhoff's house was on fire. Send Claus to me."
Claus Hopper now made his appearance: a simple country lout, full of
awe at finding himself in the very study of Dr. Knipperhausen, and too
much embarrassed to enter into much detail of the matters that had
caused his alarm. He stood twirling his hat in one hand, resting
sometimes on one leg, sometimes on the other, looking occasionally at
the doctor, and now and then stealing a fearful glance at the
death's-head that seemed ogling him from the top of the clothes-press;
The doctor tried every means to persuade him to return to the farm,
but all in vain; he maintained a dogged determination on the subject;
and at the close of every argument or solicitation, would make the
same brief, inflexible reply, "Ich kan nicht, mynheer." The doctor was
a "little pot, and soon hot;" his patience was exhausted by these
continual vexations about his estate. The stubborn refusal of Claus
Hopper seemed to him like flat rebellion; his temper suddenly boiled
over, and Claus was glad to make a rapid retreat to escape scalding.
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