"Yes, from all over the world," said the poet. Then, looking at the
boy quickly, he said: "Do you collect postage-stamps?"
Edward said he did.
"Well, I have some right here, then;" and going to a drawer in a desk
he took out a bundle of letters, and cut out the postage-stamps and
gave them to the boy.
"There's one from the Netherlands. There's where I was born," Edward
ventured to say.
"In the Netherlands? Then you are a real Dutchman. Well! Well!" he
said, laying down his pen. "Can you read Dutch?"
The boy said he could.
"Then," said the poet, "you are just the boy I am looking for." And
going to a bookcase behind him he brought out a book, and handing it to
the boy, he said, his eyes laughing: "Can you read that?"
"Yes, indeed," said Edward. "These are your poems in Dutch."
"That's right," he said. "Now, this is delightful. I am so glad you
came. I received this book last week, and although I have been in the
Netherlands, I cannot speak or read Dutch. I wonder whether you would
read a poem to me and let me hear how it sounds.
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