where in a flash, carrying the
music about till you'd swear the birds were back again."

"Holy Saint Bavon!" screeched the dame. "What's in the man?"

"Comfort and joy, vrouw, that's what's in him! Ask Gretel, ask my little
music box Gretel if your man has lacked comfort and joy this day."

"Not he, Mother," laughed Gretel. "He's been MY music box, too. We sang
together half the time you were gone."

"Aye, so," said the dame, greatly relieved. "Now, Hans, you'll never
get through with a piece like that, but never mind, chick, thou'st had a
long fasting. Here, Gretel, take another slice of the sausage. It'll put
blood in your cheeks."

"Oh! Oh, Mother," laughed Gretel, eagerly holding forth her platter.
"Blood doesn't grow in girls' cheeks--you mean roses. Isn't it roses,
Hans?"

While Hans was hastily swallowing a mammoth mouthful in order to give
a suitable reply to this poetic appeal, Dame Brinker settled the matter
with a quick, "Well, roses or blood, it's all one to me, so the red
finds its way on your sunny face. It's enough for mother to get pale and
weary-looking without--"

"Hoot, vrouw," spoke up Raff hastily, "thou'rt fresher and rosier this
minute than both our chicks put together."

This remark, though not bearing very strong testimony to the clearness
of Raff's newly awakened intellect, nevertheless afforded the dame
immense satisfaction. The meal accordingly went on in the most
delightful manner.

After dinner the affair of the watch was talked over and the mysterious
initials duly discussed.

Hans had just pushed back his stool, intending to start at once for
Mynheer van Holp's, and his mother had risen to put the watch away
in its old hiding place, when they heard the sound of wheels upon the
frozen ground.

Someone knocked at the door, opening it at the same time.

"Come in," stammered Dame Brinker, hastily trying to hide the watch in
her bosom. "Oh, is it you, mynheer! Good day! The father is nearly well,
as you see. It's a poor place to greet you in, mynheer, and the dinner
not cleared away."

Dr. Boekman scarcely noticed the dame's apology. He was evidently in
haste.

"Ahem!" he exclaimed. "Not needed here, I perceive. The patient is
mending fast."

"Well he may, mynheer," cried the dame, "for only last night we found a
thousand guilders that's been lost to us these ten years."

Dr. Boekman opened his eyes.

"Yes, mynheer," said Raff. "I bid the vrouw tell you, though it's to b