ould not
be able to find her--

"No, dear child, it is only four o'clock in the afternoon. The fog may
clear away very soon, and then I will take you back."

Quickly the wet garments were taken off and hung about the stove.
Katharine presently found herself wrapped up in blankets in a great
arm-chair in front of the fire, a cushion at her back and another under
her feet, drinking some nice hot broth, and feeling so warm and
comfortable that she fell fast asleep, and awoke two hours later to find
the room quite light, the fog almost gone, the juffrouw sitting beside
her knitting, and a comfortable-looking cat purring noisily at her
feet.

[Illustration: GRETEL AND KATRINE.]

"I think I have been asleep," she said.

"I think you have," said Dame Donk.

Just then a loud knock was heard at the door, a head was poked in, then
another, and still another. The cottage was fast filling up. There
stood, first of all, poor, pale, frightened Marie, holding a large
bundle in her arms, Jan with another smaller one, Gretel carrying a pair
of shoes, and one of the sisters, completely filling up the doorway with
her ample proportions, last of all.

It appears that as soon as the fog had begun to clear, the good Dame
Donk had despatched a boy from a neighboring cottage to let them know
where Katharine was, and that her wardrobe would need replenishing.

The excitement on finding the child safe and sound may be better
imagined than described. How she was kissed, cried, and laughed over,
what questions were asked and not answered, as she was taken into an
adjoining room and arrayed in a complete suit of Gretel's clothes, even
to the klompen, for, alas! her French shoes were now in no condition to
be worn, the pretty blue frock torn and stained and hopelessly wet, the
hat with its dainty plume crushed and useless; indeed, every article she
had worn looked only fit for the rag-bag.

Gretel was so much smaller than Katharine that the clothes were a very
tight fit, the skirt which hung round Gretel's ankles reaching just
below Katharine's knees, and it was a funny little figure that stepped
back into the room--no longer a fashionably dressed New York maiden, but
a golden-haired child of Holland, even to the blue eyes, sparkling now
with fun and merriment.

"But didn't you bring a cap for me, Marie?" she asked in a grieved tone.

"Ah, no, deary; I never thought of a cap."

"Well, you must put one on me the minute we get back."