ame Brinker was startled at her children's emotion; glad, too, for it
proved how loving and true they were.

Beautiful ladies in princely homes often smile suddenly and sweetly,
gladdening the very air around them, but I doubt if their smile be more
welcome in God's sight than that which sprang forth to cheer the roughly
clad boy and girl in the humble cottage. Dame Brinker felt that she had
been selfish. Blushing and brightening, she hastily wiped her eyes and
looked upon them as only a mother can.

"Hoity! Toity! Pretty talk we're having, and Saint Nicholas's Eve almost
here! What wonder the yarn pricks my fingers! Come, Gretel, take this
cent, *{The Dutch cent is worth less than half of an American cent.}
and while Hans is trading for the skates you can buy a waffle in the
marketplace."

"Let me stay home with you, Mother," said Gretel, looking up with eyes
that sparkled through their tears. "Hans will buy me the cake."

"As you will, child, and Hans--wait a moment. Three turns of this needle
will finish this toe, and then you may have as good a pair of hose as
ever were knitted (owning the yarn is a grain too sharp) to sell to the
hosier on the Harengracht. *{A street in Amsterdam.} That will give us
three quarter-guilders if you make good trade; and as it's right
hungry weather, you may buy four waffles. We'll keep the Feast of Saint
Nicholas after all."

Gretel clapped her hands. "That will be fine! Annie Bouman told me what
grand times they will have in the big houses tonight. But we will be
merry too. Hans will have beautiful new skates--and then there'll be the
waffles! Oh! Don't break them, brother Hans. Wrap them well, and button
them under your jacket very carefully."

"Certainly," replied Hans, quite gruff with pleasure and importance.

"Oh! Mother!" cried Gretel in high glee, "soon you will be busied with
the father, and now you are only knitting. Do tell us all about Saint
Nicholas!"

Dame Brinker laughed to see Hans hang up his hat and prepare to listen.
"Nonsense, children," she said. "I have told it to you often."

"Tell us again! Oh, DO tell us again!" cried Gretel, throwing herself
upon the wonderful wooden bench that her brother had made on the
mother's last birthday. Hans, not wishing to appear childish, and yet
quite willing to hear the story, stood carelessly swinging his skates
against the fireplace.

"Well, children, you shall hear it, but we must never waste the daylight
again in t