Although the sermon was spoken slowly, Ben could understand little of what was said; but when the hymn came, he joined in with all his heart. A thousand voices lifted in love and praise offered a grander language than he could readily comprehend. Once he was startled, during a pause in the service, by seeing a little bag suddenly shaken before him. It had a tinkling bell at its side and was attached to a long stick carried by one of the deacons of the church. Not relying solely upon the mute appeal of the poor boxes fastened to the columns near the entrance, this more direct method was resorted to, of awakening the sympathies of the charitable. Fortunately Ben had provided himself with a few stivers, or the musical bag must have tinkled before him in vain. More than once, a dark look rose on our English boy’s face that morning. He longed to stand up and harangue the people concerning a peculiarity that filled him with pain. Some of the men wore their hats during the service or took them off whenever the humor prompted, and many put theirs on in the church as soon as they arose to leave. No wonder Ben’s sense of propriety was wounded; and yet a higher sense would have been exercised had he tried to feel willing that Hollanders should follow the customs of their country. But his English heart said over and over again, “It is outrageous! It is sinful!” There is an angel called Charity who would often save our hearts a great deal of trouble if we would but let her in. Homeward Bound On Monday morning, bright and early, our boys bade farewell to their kind entertainers and started on their homeward journey. Peter lingered awhile at the lion-guarded door, for he and his sister had many parting words to say. As Ben saw them bidding each other good-bye, he could not help feeling that kisses as well as clocks were wonderfully alike everywhere. The English kiss that his sister Jenny had given him when he left home had said the same thing to him that the Vrouw van Gend’s Dutch kiss said to Peter. Ludwig had taken his share of the farewell in the most matter-of-fact manner possible, and though he loved his sister well, had winced a little at her making such a child of him as to put an extra kiss “for mother” upon his forehead. He was already upon the canal with Carl and Jacob. Were they thinking about sisters or kisses? Not a bit of it. They were so happy to be on skates once more, so impatient to dart at once into the very heart of Broek, that they spun and wheeled about like crazy fellows, relieving themselves, meantime, by muttering something about “Peter and donder” not worth translating. Even Lambert and Ben, who had been waiting at the street corner, began to grow impatient. The captain joined them at last and they were soon on the canal with the rest. “Hurry up, Peter,” growled Ludwig. “We’re freezing by inches--there! I knew you’d be the last after all to get on your skates.”