tossed into little sharp-edged waves
which sent "Mascotte" rolling from side to side, so choppily that I was
glad to get into the next canal, even narrower than the first, such a
mere slip of water that cows on shore, vague, shadowy, shapes, puffed
clouds of clover-sweet breath in our faces as we leaned toward them from
the deck.

The windows of little thatched cottages seemed to look straight into our
cabin windows, like curiously glinting, wakeful eyes; and Jonkheer
Brederode said that, by daylight when the canal was crowded with barges
and lighters, it needed almost as much skill and patience to steer
through it, as to guide a motor-car through Piccadilly in the height of
the season.

It took bribery and corruption, I'm afraid, to get the sluice gates
opened for us in the middle of the night; and Jonkheer Brederode had his
Club flag flying, in case any one proved obstinate. But no one did, so
perhaps--as people are supposed to be quite the opposite of their real
selves in disposition, if waked suddenly--Frisians are weak and yielding
if roused in the night.

It was wonderful to see the moonlight fading into dawn, over the canal,
and the gentle, indistinct landscape, and I wished that Mr. van Buren
could have been with us, as I am sure it was the kind of thing which
would have appealed to his heart--especially if Freule Menela were not
with him, to hold him down to earth.

Morning was clear in the sky when we came to Groningen, and we were not
in the least tired, though we had not even tried to doze. At a nice
hotel, called by the odd name of the "Seven Provinces," where Jonkheer
Brederode had arranged for us to stop a night if our plans had not been
suddenly changed, there was a telegram for Nell. It was from Mr. van
Buren, and said, "Can I bring fiancee and sisters to spend a day with
you at Utrecht? Answer, Robert van B., Scheveningen."

Of course, one word costs less than two, and is therefore wiser to use
in a telegram. Besides, she _is_ his fiancee. But it looked so
irrevocable, staring up from the paper, that I felt more sorry for him
than ever. I was a little excited, too, as Nell was wiring back "Yes,
delighted," and adding the date on which we expected to arrive at
Utrecht. I am excited still, as I write this; for I have the idea that
Freule Menela was angry with Mr. van Buren for spending so much time
with us, and that she wants to punish him--or somebody else.

RONALD LESTER STARR'S POINT OF VIE