Miss Mohr, Miss Gordon and the children already had gone inside. Hanny had called the housekeeper, Mrs. Schultz, a plump German lady, who kept the premises as neat as a pin. “Oh, how delightful!” Miss Mohr exclaimed, her gaze roving over the room. The walls were half-paneled in oak, with a deep white frieze above for the display of blue Delft ware. A brace of crossed pipes hung above the massive mantel. All of the furniture was solid, the huge cupboard, the carved chest and the high-back chairs. The wooden floor was so highly polished that Vevi and Connie had to walk carefully not to slip and fall. While the women admired the Delft tiles and Maiolica ware Peter had brought from Holland, Hanny helped Mrs. Schultz prepare hot chocolate. Soon the little girl came in with the steaming cups. After that she served tiny little cakes with pink and white frosting. When finally it was time to leave, Peter cordially invited Miss Mohr, Miss Gordon and the Brownies to come again. “You’ll see me too!” declared Mr. Piff noisily. “I’ve not given up, Mr. Van Der Lann. Not on your life! The more I see of Windmill Farm the better I like the place. We’ll have to include you in our big show, Peter.” Peter merely shook his head and made no reply. It was plain to Vevi and Connie that he did not like Mr. Piff nor his familiar way of calling him “Peter” upon such short acquaintance. Embarrassed by the promoter’s manners, Miss Gordon and the librarian quickly said goodbye. Before leaving, Miss Mohr urged Hanny to come to the library often. Miss Gordon told the little girl she would be welcome at the next Brownie Scout meeting. “When will that be?” Hanny asked eagerly. “The date isn’t certain,” Miss Gordon replied. “I will have either Connie or Vevi let you know.” As the car started toward Rosedale, the Brownie Scout leader and Miss Mohr could talk of little else than the many beautiful treasures in Peter’s home. “He has a nice place,” Mr. Piff admitted grudgingly. “A stubborn fool though!” “I don’t agree with you,” Miss Mohr replied. “Surely it is his right to decide whether or not he wants to have a part in a commercial show.” “He’d have gone for it if you had spoken a single favorable word,” Mr. Piff went on. “What do you have against me anyhow?” “Nothing,” returned the librarian. She spoke shortly for she had lost all patience with the promoter. For awhile, Mr. Piff drove in moody silence. Once though, when Vevi lowered the rear window a trifle, he yelled at her to put it up again. The children decided they never had met a more disagreeable man than the promoter. They were glad, though, that they had made the trip to Windmill Farm, for otherwise they would not have become acquainted with Hanny and her uncle. “Let’s go back there some day after school,” Vevi proposed. “So you can ride in the dog cart again?” teased Connie.