t it was necessary to give her
an answer.

"But, dear Juffrouw, the boy don't want to. He's stubborn; and what
can one do with such a child?"

Walter knew that his mother was not quite truthful; but, after his
former experience with his friendly enemy, he found it desirable to
keep quiet. When pressed, however, for an explanation he said:

"The man wanted snuff, and nobody would give him any; so I----"

Juffrouw Laps knew enough. Walter was as good as her prisoner: she
now knew exactly how to take his fortifications, if they could be
taken at all.

"If he doesn't want to come to me, don't compel him," she said sweetly
on leaving. "To force him won't do any good. Let him exercise his own
pleasure. I'm afraid you pick at the child too much, anyway. What an
awful fuss we've made over a stiver!"

"That's what I say, too," replied the mother. "It looks as if we
begrudged him the money! We could have spared another stiver, and we
wouldn't have missed it, would we, Stoffel?"

"Yes, mother, but it's time for Walter----"

"Goodness, what a hullaballoo to raise about a few pinches of
snuff! The Master will repay it seven times seventy times. Whatever
ye have done to the least of my brothers----"

With this consoling passage on her lips she took her leave of the
astonished family.

Yes, it wasn't so easy to see through Juffrouw Laps!

CHAPTER XXIV

In his efforts to reconcile the various conflicting authorities
contesting for supremacy in his soul, Walter threw himself into a
severe spell of blues. He was not conscious of the contrast between
the world of his high-flown fancy and the earthy environment of his
home-life. The sympathetic care which he should have received after
his illness had not fallen to his lot.

He felt dejected.

"Femke!" he thought; and he longed for her fresh healthy face,
for her pure, unselfish glance, for her friendly smile. The Fancy
that had led him away to the stars in search of his misty sister had
got lodged on that girl of the Amsterdam lowlands, Femke--with her
unpoetical length, breadth, thickness, and weight.

"I am going to see her," he cried. "I will! And if Mrs. Claus asks
me about worms a dozen times, it's all the same to me; I am going to
see her!"

Walter reached the house and knocked. "Come in!" someone called. This
was a little sudden, for it took some time to get hold of the
latch. But Walter did it. Perhaps he was thinking of Missolonghi.

The Turks that