of the Bed Chamber.

The real Reception Committee, consisting of Mynheer in a burgomaster
suit borrowed from a friend, and the four painters--Marny as a Dutch
Falstaff, Pudfut as a Spanish Cavalier, Stebbins got up as a Night
Watch, and Malone in the costume of a Man-at-Arms--all costumes loaned
for the occasion by the antiquary in the next street--were to await
Joplin's coming in the privacy of the Gate--almost a tunnel--and so
close to the door of the inn that it might have passed for a part of
the establishment itself.

Meantime the four painters were to collect material for the decoration
of the coffee-room--wreaths of greens over the mantel and festoons of
ivy hanging down the back of Joplin's chair being prominent features;
while Mynheer, Tine and Johann were to concentrate their energies in
preparing a dinner the like of which had never been eaten since the
sluiceways in the dikes drowned out the Spanish duke. Not a word of all
this, of course, had reached the ears of the Bostonian. Half,
three-quarters, if not all, the enjoyment of the occasion would be
realized when they looked on Joplin's face and read his surprise.

IV

The eventful day at last arrived. Stebbins, as prearranged, had begged
the exile to telegraph the exact hour of his departure and mode of
travel from Rotterdam, suggesting the boat as being by far the best,
and Joplin had answered in return that Fop Smit's packet, due at
sundown the following day, would count him among its passengers.

The deep tones of the whistle off Papendrecht sent every man to his
post, the villagers standing back in amazement at the extraordinary
spectacle, especially at Tine and Johann in their queer clothes, who,
being instantly recognized, were plied with questions.

The boat slowed down; made fast; out came the gangplank; ashore went
the little two-wheel carts drawn by the sleepy, tired dogs; then the
baskets of onions were rolled off, and the few barrels of freight, and
then two or three passengers--among them a small, feeble man, in a long
coat reaching to his heels--made their way to the dock.

NO JOPPY!!

"That's the last man to come ashore here," said Marny. "What's become
of the lad?"

"Maybe he's gone aft," cried Stebbins; "maybe--"

Here Tine gave a little scream, dropped her wreath and running toward
the small, feeble man, threw her arms around his neck. Marny and the
others bounded over the cobbles, tossing the bystanders out of the way
as