All things considered, Gretel was disappointed. Raff, however, was perfectly satisfied. The message was delivered; Dr. Boekman had his son safe and sound; and the poor lad had done nothing sinful after all, except in thinking his father would have abandoned him for an accident. To be sure, the graceful stripling had become rather a heavy man--Raff had unconsciously hoped to clasp that same boyish hand again--but all things were changed to Raff, for that matter. So he pushed back every feeling but joy, as he saw father and son sitting side by side at his hearthstone. Meantime, Hans was wholly occupied in the thought of Thomas Higgs' happiness in being able to be the meester's assistant again; and Dame Brinker was sighing softly to herself, wishing that the lad's mother were alive to see him--such a fine young gentleman as he was; and wondering how Dr. Boekman could bear to see the silver watch getting so dull. He had worn it ever since Raff handed it over, that was evident. What had he done with the gold one he used to wear? The light was shining full upon Dr. Boekman's face. How contented he looked; how much younger and brighter than formerly. The hard lines were quite melting away. He was laughing, as he said to the father: "Am I not a happy man, Raff Brinker? My son will sell out his factory this month, and open a warehouse in Amsterdam. I shall have all my spectacle-cases for nothing." Hans started from his reverie. "A warehouse, mynheer! and will Thomas Higgs--I mean--is your son not to be your assistant again?" A shade passed over the meester's face, but he brightened with an effort, as he replied: "Oh no, Laurens has had quite enough of that. He wishes to be a merchant." Hans appeared so surprised and disappointed that his friend asked good-naturedly: "Why so silent, boy? Is it any disgrace to be a merchant?" "N--not a disgrace, mynheer," stammered Hans--"but----" "But what?" "Why, the other calling is so much better," answered Hans, "so much nobler. I think, mynheer," he added, kindling with enthusiasm, "that to be a surgeon,--to cure the sick and crippled, to save human life, to be able to do what you have done for my father--is the grandest thing on earth." The doctor was regarding him sternly. Hans felt rebuked. His cheeks were flushed; hot tears were gathering under his lashes. "It is an ugly business, boy, this surgery," said the doctor, still frowning at Hans; "it requires great patience, self-denial and perseverance." "I am sure it does," cried Hans, kindling again. "It calls for wisdom too, and a reverence for God's work. Ah, mynheer, it may have its trials and drawbacks--but you do not mean what you say--it is great and noble, not ugly! Pardon me, mynheer. It is not for me to speak so boldly."