"He at least had one!" he bellowed, amidst his laughter.
"Father, you're mad!"
"Yes, to-day . . . because of that dream, those wonderful sands . . . Oh, how I wish I were Ottocar! . . . My boy, my boy, I'm so terribly bored sometimes!"
"And just after you've had a jolly bicycle-ride!"
"All on my own . . . with my head full of all sorts of wretched thoughts! . . ."
"Well, to-morrow, Wednesday afternoon, we'll go together."
"Do you mean it? A long ride? To-morrow? To-morrow?"
"Yes, certainly, a long ride."
"You brick! My own Addie! My boy! My boy!"
He was as grateful as a child, caught his son in his arms:
"Addie, let me give you one more hug!"
"Well, be quick about it, Father, for I must really go, or I shall be late."
Van der Welcke put his arms round him, kissed him on both cheeks and flew upstairs. He undressed, flung his clothes to right and left, washed his face in a huge basin of water, shaved quickly, dressed himself neatly. He did all this with much fuss and rushing about, as though his toilet was a most important affair. Then he went downstairs.
