winter birds, for the air
was thick with icicles--not one bird but twenty. Oh! hear them, Mother.
Wake me, Mother, for the race. I am so tired with crying, and crying--

A firm hand was laid upon her shoulder.

"Get up, little girl!" cried a kind voice. "This will not do, for you to
lie here and freeze."

Gretel slowly raised her head. She was so sleepy that it seemed nothing
strange to her that Hilda van Gleck should be leaning over her, looking
with kind, beautiful eyes into her face. She had often dreamed it
before.

But she had never dreamed that Hilda was shaking her roughly, almost
dragging her by main force; never dreamed that she heard her saying,
"Gretel! Gretel Brinker! You MUST wake!"

This was real. Gretel looked up. Still the lovely delicate young lady
was shaking, rubbing, fairly pounding her. It must be a dream. No, there
was the cottage--and the stork's nest and the meester's coach by the
canal. She could see them now quite plainly. Her hands were tingling,
her feet throbbing. Hilda was forcing her to walk.

At last Gretel began to feel like herself again.

"I have been asleep," she faltered, rubbing her eyes with both hands and
looking very much ashamed.

"Yes, indeed, entirely too much asleep"--laughed Hilda, whose lips were
very pale--"but you are well enough now. Lean upon me, Gretel. There,
keep moving, you will soon be warm enough to go by the fire. Now let me
take you into the cottage."

"Oh, no! no! no! jufvrouw, not in there! The meester is there. He sent
me away!"

Hilda was puzzled, but she wisely forebore to ask at present for an
explanation. "Very well, Gretel, try to walk faster. I saw you upon the
mound, some time ago, but I thought you were playing. That is right,
keep moving."

All this time the kindhearted girl had been forcing Gretel to walk up
and down, supporting her with one arm and, with the other, striving as
well as she could to take off her own warm sacque.

Suddenly Gretel suspected her intention.

"Oh, jufvrouw! jufvrouw!" she cried imploringly. "PLEASE never think
of such a thing as THAT. Oh! please keep it on, I am burning all over,
jufvrouw! I really am burning. Not burning exactly, but pins and needles
pricking all over me. Oh, jufvrouw, don't!"

The poor child's dismay was so genuine that Hilda hastened to reassure
her.

"Very well, Gretel, move your arms then--so. Why, your cheeks are as
pink as roses, already. I think the meester would let you in now