“You have a much prettier farm than theirs,” said Connie. “The windmill is lovely.” “Do you think so?” Hanny beamed with pleasure. “My uncle has spent much money fixing up the farm so it will remind him of our beautiful homeland. The Mattoxes, though, say he is wasteful of money. It is not true!” The little girl unloaded the empty milk cans. Then she unhitched Bruno and let him run free. “Would you like to see our cheese house?” she invited Connie and Vevi. “Yes, indeed!” they exclaimed together. Both were eager to see every inch of the fascinating farm. Hanny pushed open the door and stood back so the visitors could enter ahead of her. The room was sweet-smelling and spotlessly clean. Along the walls were deep shelves laden with yellow, perfectly rounded cheeses. Fresh milk stood on tables in blue and orange-colored pans. “Each morning I skim the cream and churn it into butter,” explained Hanny. “You know how to churn?” Connie asked, deeply impressed. “Oh, yes, I can make cheese too. We use the skimmed milk for that. I add rennet which makes the solids separate from the liquid. The curds or solid part goes into a bag to be pressed out. After it is salted, it is set away to ripen. That takes several months.” “How do you make the cheese into such nice round balls?” Connie inquired, peering at the many even rows on the shelves. Hanny explained that wooden molds were used. “But it is hard work, making cheese,” she added with a sigh. “I should think so,” agreed Vevi. “I would rather run the windmill or make the dog carry the cans of milk.” By this time the Brownies were beginning to feel very well acquainted with Hanny. They no longer noticed that she spoke with a slight accent or that sometimes she slipped in a “Ja” for the word “yes.” Connie told the little Dutch girl about the Rosedale Brownie Scout organization and asked if she would like to join the group. “What do Brownies do?” asked Hanny. “Loads of things,” explained Connie. “We make things and learn about nature. To be a Brownie you can’t be older than nine years. You’re supposed to be in second, third or fourth grade at school.” “I am all mixed up at school,” Hanny said. “In arithmetic I am fourth grade, but in English I am only second grade. I do not know so many of your words.” “That doesn’t matter,” Vevi declared. “Attending meetings is what counts. You have to learn the Brownie Promise too.” “What is that?” Vevi recited it for her. “_I promise to do my best to love God and my country, to help other people every day, especially those at home._” “I could promise all that,” Hanny said soberly. “I love America very, very much. I want to help people too, especially my uncle, Peter. If it had not been for him, I never could have left The Netherlands.” The little Dutch girl then went on to tell Vevi and Connie that until recently she had lived in a little village near the city of Amsterdam. Both of her parents were dead.