th his father, watch his mood. You have tact. At any
moment he may suddenly be able to tell us more."

"Trust me for that, mynheer."

"Good day, my boy!" cried the doctor as he sprang into his stately
coach.

Aha! thought Hans as it rolled away, the meester has more life in him
than I thought.

The Race

The twentieth of December came at last, bringing with it the perfection
of winter weather. All over the level landscape lay the warm sunlight.
It tried its power on lake, canal, and river, but the ice flashed
defiance and showed no sign of melting. The very weathercocks stood
still to enjoy the sight. This gave the windmills a holiday. Nearly all
the past week they had been whirling briskly; now, being rather out of
breath, they rocked lazily in the clear, still air. Catch a windmill
working when the weathercocks have nothing to do!

There was an end to grinding, crushing, and sawing for that day. It was
a good thing for the millers near Broek. Long before noon they
concluded to take in their sails and go to the race. Everybody would be
there--already the north side of the frozen Y was bordered with eager
spectators. The news of the great skating match had traveled far and
wide. Men, women, and children in holiday attire were flocking toward
the spot. Some wore furs and wintry cloaks or shawls, but many,
consulting their feelings rather than the almanac, were dressed as for
an October day.

The site selected for the race was a faultless plain of ice near
Amsterdam, on that great arm of the Zuider Zee, which Dutchmen, of
course, must call the Eye. The townspeople turned out in large numbers.
Strangers to the city deemed it a fine chance to see what was to be
seen. Many a peasant from the northward had wisely chosen the twentieth
as the day for the next city trading. It seemed that everybody, young
and old, who had wheels, skates, or feet at command had hastened to the
scene.

There were the gentry in their coaches, dressed like Parisians, fresh
from the boulevards; Amsterdam children in charity uniforms; girls from
the Roman Catholic Orphan House, in sable gowns and white headbands;
boys from the Burgher Asylum, with their black tights and short-skirted,
harlequin coats. *{This is not said in derision. Both the boys and
girls of this institution wear garments quartered in red and black,
alternately. By making the dress thus conspicuous, the children are,
in a measure, deterred from wrongdoing while g