Hans was glad to join in Peter's laugh--it covered his embarrassment and gave his face a chance to cool off a little. Honest, generous boys like Hans have such a stupid way of blushing when you least expect it. "It was nothing, mynheer," said the dame, hastening to her son's relief; "the lad's whole soul was in having you win the race, I know it was!" This helped matters beautifully. "Ah, mynheer," Hans hurried to say, "from the first start I felt stiff and strange on my feet; I was well out of it so long as I had no chance of winning." Peter looked rather distressed. "We may hold different opinions there. That part of the business troubles me. It is too late to mend it now, but it would be really a kindness to me if----" The rest of Peter's speech was uttered so confidentially that I cannot record it. Enough to say, Hans soon started back in dismay, and Peter, looking very much ashamed, stammered out something to the effect that he would keep them, since he won the race, but it was "all wrong." Here Van Mounen coughed, as if to remind Peter that lecture-hour was approaching fast. At the same moment Ben laid something upon the table. "Ah," exclaimed Peter, "I forgot my other errand. Your sister ran off so quickly to-day, that Madame van Gleck had no opportunity to give her the case for her skates." "S-s-t!" said Dame Brinker, shaking her head reproachfully at Gretel, "she was a very rude girl I'm sure." [Secretly, she was thinking that very few women had such a fine little daughter.] "No, indeed," laughed Peter, "she did exactly the right thing--ran home with her richly won treasures--who would not? Don't let us detain you, Hans," he continued turning around as he spoke; but Hans, who was eagerly watching the father, seemed to have forgotten their presence. Meantime, Raff, lost in thought was repeating under his breath, "Thomas Higgs--Thomas Higgs, aye, that's the name. Alack! if I could but tell the place as well." The skate-case was elegantly made of crimson morocco, ornamented with silver. If a fairy had breathed upon its tiny key, or Jack Frost himself designed its delicate tracery, they could not have been more daintily beautiful. FOR THE FLEETEST was written upon the cover in sparkling letters. It was lined with velvet, and in one corner was stamped the name and address of the maker. Gretel thanked Peter in her own simple way; then, being quite delighted and confused, and not knowing what else to do, lifted the case, carefully examining it in every part. "It's made by Mynheer Birmingham," she said after a while, still blushing and holding it before her eyes. "Birmingham!" replied Lambert van Mounen, "that's the name of a place in England. Let me see it. "Ha! ha!" he laughed, holding the open case toward the firelight, "no wonder you thought so; but it's a slight mistake. The case was made at Birmingham, but the maker's name is in smaller letters. Humph! they're so small, I can't read them."