rtain vision of
silver skates which, for a week past, had haunted him night and day.

Like a true "John Bull," as Jacob had called him, he never doubted that
his English fleetness, English strength, English everything, could at
any time enable him, on the ice, to put all Holland to shame, and the
rest of the world too, for that matter. Ben certainly was a superb
skater. He had enjoyed not half the opportunities for practicing that
had fallen to his new comrades but he had improved his share to the
utmost and was, besides, so strong of frame, so supple of limb, in
short, such a tight, trim, quick, graceful fellow in every way that he
had taken to skating as naturally as a chamois to leaping or an eagle to
soaring.

Only to the heavy heart of poor Hans had the vision of the silver skates
failed to appear during that starry winter night and the brighter sunlit
day.

Even Gretel had seen them flitting before her as she sat beside her
mother through those hours of weary watching--not as prizes to be won,
but as treasures passing hopelessly beyond her reach.

Rychie, Hilda, and Katrinka--why, they had scarcely known any other
thought than "The race, the race. It will come off on the twentieth!"

These three girls were friends. Though of nearly the same age, talent,
and station, they were as different as girls could be.

Hilda van Gleck, as you already know, was a warm-hearted, noble girl of
fourteen. Rychie Korbes was beautiful to look upon, far more sparkling
and pretty than Hilda but not half so bright and sunny within. Clouds
of pride, of discontent, and envy had already gathered in her heart
and were growing bigger and darker every day. Of course, these often
relieved themselves very much after the manner of other clouds. But who
saw the storms and the weeping? Only her maid or her father, mother, and
little brother--those who loved her better than all. Like other clouds,
too, hers often took queer shapes, and what was really but mist and
vapory fancy assumed the appearance of monster wrongs and mountains of
difficulty. To her mind, the poor peasant girl Gretel was not a human
being, a God-created creature like herself--she was only something that
meant poverty, rags, and dirt. Such as Gretel had no right to feel,
to hope; above all, they should never cross the paths of their
betters--that is, not in a disagreeable way. They could toil and labor
for them at a respectful distance, even admire them, if they would do i