omes of Holland. He visited the king's palace
and in the selfsame moment appeared in Annie Bouman's comfortable home.
Probably one of our silver half-dollars would have purchased all that
his saintship left at the peasant Bouman's; but a half-dollar's worth
will sometimes do for the poor what hundreds of dollars may fail to
do for the rich; it makes them happy and grateful, fills them with new
peace and love.

Hilda van Gleck's little brothers and sisters were in a high state of
excitement that night. They had been admitted into the grand parlor;
they were dressed in their best and had been given two cakes apiece at
supper. Hilda was as joyous as any. Why not? Saint Nicholas would never
cross a girl of fourteen from his list, just because she was tall and
looked almost like a woman. On the contrary, he would probably exert
himself to do honor to such an august-looking damsel. Who could tell? So
she sported and laughed and danced as gaily as the youngest and was
the soul of all their merry games. Her father, mother, and grandmother
looked on approvingly; so did her grandfather, before he spread his
large red handkerchief over his face, leaving only the top of his
skullcap visible. This kerchief was his ensign of sleep.

Earlier in the evening all had joined in the fun. In the general
hilarity there had seemed to be a difference only in bulk between
grandfather and the baby. Indeed, a shade of solemn expectation, now
and then flitting across the faces of the younger members, had made them
seem rather more thoughtful than their elders.

Now the spirit of fun reigned supreme. The very flames danced and
capered in the polished grate. A pair of prim candles that had been
staring at the astral lamp began to wink at other candles far away in
the mirrors. There was a long bell rope suspended from the ceiling in
the corner, made of glass beads netted over a cord nearly as thick as
your wrist. It is generally hung in the shadow and made no sign, but
tonight it twinkled from end to end. Its handle of crimson glass sent
reckless dashes of red at the papered wall, turning its dainty blue
stripes into purple. Passersby halted to catch the merry laughter
floating, through curtain and sash, into the street, then skipped on
their way with a startled consciousness that the village was wide-awake.
At last matters grew so uproarious that the grandsire's red kerchief
came down from his face with a jerk. What decent old gentleman could
sle