he opens his warehouse in Amsterdam,
someone to oversee matters, and see that the lazy clowns round about the
place do their duty. Someone to--Why don't you tell him yourself, you
rascal!"

This last was addressed to the son and did not sound half as fierce
as it looks in print. The rascal and Raff soon understood each other
perfectly.

"I'm loath to leave the dikes," said the latter, after they had talked
together awhile, "but it is such a good offer, mynheer, I'd be robbing
my family if I let it go past me."

Take a long look at Hans as he sits there staring gratefully at the
meester, for you shall not see him again for many years.

And Gretel--ah, what a vista of puzzling work suddenly opens before her!
Yes, for dear Hans's sake she will study now. If he really is to be a
meester, his sister must not shame his greatness.

How faithfully those glancing eyes shall yet seek for the jewels that
lie hidden in rocky schoolbooks! And how they shall yet brighten and
droop at the coming of one whom she knows of now only as the boy who
wore a red cap on that wonderful day when she found the silver skates in
her apron!

But the doctor and Laurens are going. Dame Brinker is making her best
curtsy. Raff stands beside her, looking every inch a man as he grasps
the meester's hand. Through the open cottage door we can look out upon
the level Dutch landscape, all alive with the falling snow.

Conclusion

Our story is nearly told. Time passes in Holland just as surely and
steadily as here. In that respect no country is odd.

To the Brinker family it has brought great changes. Hans has spent the
years faithfully and profitably, conquering obstacles as they arose and
pursuing one object with all the energy of his nature. If often the way
has been rugged, his resolution has never failed. Sometimes he echoes,
with his good friend, the words said long ago in that little cottage
near Broek: "Surgery is an ugly business," but always in his heart of
hearts lingers the echo of those truer words: "It is great and noble! It
awakes a reverence for God's work!"

Were you in Amsterdam today, you might see the famous Dr. Brinker riding
in his grand coach to visit his patients, or, it might be, you would see
him skating with his own boys and girls upon the frozen canal. For Annie
Bouman, the beautiful, frank-hearted peasant girl, you would inquire in
vain; but Annie Brinker, the vrouw of the great physician, is very like
her-