at she ought to try and
make a curtsy, such as her mother makes to the meester, when suddenly
something so dazzling is placed in her hand that she gives a cry of joy.

Then she ventures to look about her. Peter, too, has something in his
hands. "Oh! Oh! How splendid!" she cries, and "Oh! How splendid!" is
echoed as far as people can see.

Meantime the silver skates flash in the sunshine, throwing dashes of
light upon those two happy faces.

Mevrouw van Gend sends a little messenger with her bouquets. One for
Hilda, one for Carl, and others for Peter and Gretel.

At sight of the flowers the queen of the skaters becomes uncontrollable.
With a bright stare of gratitude, she gathers skates and bouquets in her
apron, hugs them to her bosom, and darts off to search for her father
and mother in the scattering crowd.

Joy in the Cottage

Perhaps you were surprised to learn that Raff and his vrouw were at the
skating race. You would have been more so had you been with them on the
evening of that merry twentieth of December. To see the Brinker
cottage standing sulkily alone on the frozen marsh, with its bulgy,
rheumatic-looking walls and its slouched hat of a roof pulled far
over its eyes, one would never suspect that a lively scene was passing
within. Without, nothing was left of the day but a low line of blaze
at the horizon. A few venturesome clouds had already taken fire, and
others, with their edges burning, were lost in the gathering smoke.

A stray gleam of sunshine slipping down from the willow stump crept
stealthily under the cottage. It seemed to feel that the inmates would
give it welcome if it could only get near them. The room under which it
hid was as clean as clean could be. The very cracks in the rafters were
polished. Delicious odors filled the air. A huge peat fire upon the
hearth sent flashes of harmless lightning at the somber walls. It played
in turn upon the great leather Bible, upon Gretel's closet-bed, the
household things upon their pegs, and the beautiful silver skates
and the flowers upon the table. Dame Brinker's honest face shone and
twinkled in the changing light. Gretel and Hans, with arms entwined,
were leaning against the fireplace, laughing merrily, and Raff Brinker
was dancing!

I do not mean that he was pirouetting or cutting a pigeon-wing, either
of which would have been entirely too undignified for the father of
a family. I simply affirm that while they were chatting pleasa