as well as ever."

"Humph!" exclaimed Ludwig indignantly. "That was high! What did SHE do
without them, I wonder?"

"Oh," said Peter, laughing, "likely she had another pair. At any rate
she insisted upon his taking them. He was so grateful that he painted
a picture of the spectacles for her, case and all, and she sold it to
a burgomaster for a yearly allowance that made her comfortable for the
rest of her days."

"Boys!" called Lambert in a loud whisper, "come look at this 'Bear
Hunt.'"

It was a fine painting by Paul Potter, a Dutch artist of the seventeenth
century, who produced excellent works before he was sixteen years
old. The boys admired it because the subject pleased them. They passed
carelessly by the masterpieces of Rembrandt and Van der Helst, and went
into raptures over an ugly picture by Van der Venne, representing a sea
fight between the Dutch and English. They also stood spellbound before
a painting of two little urchins, one of whom was taking soup and the
other eating an egg. The principal merit in this work was that the
young egg-eater had kindly slobbered his face with the yolk for their
entertainment.

An excellent representation of the "Feast of Saint Nicholas" next had
the honor of attracting them.

"Look, Van Mounen," said Ben to Lambert. "Could anything be better than
this youngster's face? He looks as if he KNOWS he deserves a whipping,
but hopes Saint Nicholas may not have found him out. That's the kind of
painting I like; something that tells a story."

"Come, boys!" cried the captain. "Ten o'clock, time we were off!"

They hastened to the canal.

"Skates on! Are you ready? One, two--halloo! Where's Poot?"

Sure enough, where WAS Poot?

A square opening had just been cut in the ice not ten yards off. Peter
observed it and, without a word, skated rapidly toward it.

All the others followed, of course.

Peter looked in. They all looked in; then stared anxiously at each
other.

"Poot!" screamed Peter, peering into the hole again. All was still. The
black water gave no sign; it was already glazing on top.

Van Mounen turned mysteriously to Ben. "DIDN'T HE HAVE A FIT ONCE?"

"My goodness! yes!" answered Ben in a great fright.

"Then, depend upon it, he's been taken with one in the museum!"

The boys caught his meaning. Every skate was off in a twinkling. Peter
had the presence of mind to scoop up a capful of water from the hole,
and off they scampered to the rescue.

Alas!