“No, no, mynheer. I cannot take it. If I could find work in Broek or at the South Mill, I would be glad, but it is the same story everywhere--‘Wait until spring’”. “It is well you speak of it,” said Peter eagerly, “for my father needs help at once. Your pretty chain pleased him much. He said, ‘That boy has a clean cut; he would be good at carving.’ There is to be a carved portal to our new summer house, and father will pay well for the job.” “God is good!” cried Hans in sudden delight. “Oh, mynheer, that would be too much joy. I have never tried big work, but I can do it. I know I can.” “Well, tell my father you are the Hans Brinker of whom I spoke. He will be glad to serve you.” Hans stared in honest surprise. “Thank you, mynheer.” “Now, captain,” shouted Carl, anxious to appear as good humored as possible, by way of atonement, “here we are in the midst of Haarlem, and no word from you yet. We await your orders, and we’re as hungry as wolves.” Peter made a cheerful answer, and turned hurriedly to Hans. “Come, get something to eat, and I will detain you no longer.” What a quick, wistful look Hans threw upon him! Peter wondered that he had not noticed before that the poor boy was hungry. “Ah, mynheer, even now the mother may need me, the father may be worse--I must not wait. May God care for you.” And, nodding hastily, Hans turned his face homeward and was gone. “Come, boys,” sighed Peter, “now for our tiffin!” Homes It must not be supposed that our young Dutchmen had already forgotten the great skating race which was to take place on the twentieth. On the contrary, they had thought and spoken of it very often during the day. Even Ben, though he had felt more like a traveler than the rest, had never once, through all the sight-seeing, lost a certain vision of silver skates which, for a week past, had haunted him night and day. Like a true “John Bull,” as Jacob had called him, he never doubted that his English fleetness, English strength, English everything, could at any time enable him, on the ice, to put all Holland to shame, and the rest of the world too, for that matter. Ben certainly was a superb skater. He had enjoyed not half the opportunities for practicing that had fallen to his new comrades but he had improved his share to the utmost and was, besides, so strong of frame, so supple of limb, in short, such a tight, trim, quick, graceful fellow in every way that he had taken to skating as naturally as a chamois to leaping or an eagle to soaring. Only to the heavy heart of poor Hans had the vision of the silver skates failed to appear during that starry winter night and the brighter sunlit day. Even Gretel had seen them flitting before her as she sat beside her mother through those hours of weary watching--not as prizes to be won, but as treasures passing hopelessly beyond her reach.