ed at the burgomaster in surprise and
answered proudly:

"You know my son's report."

"Both sides must be fairly heard," replied Van der Werff calmly. "That
has been the custom of the Netherlands from ancient times."

"My son bears my name and speaks the truth."

"Our boys are called simply Leendert or Adrian or Gerrit, but they
do the same, so I must beg you to send the young gentleman to the
examination at the school."

"By no means," answered the knight resolutely. "If I had thought the
matter belonged to the rector's department, I should have sought him and
not you, Herr Peter. My son has his own tutor, and was not attacked in
your school, which in any case he has outgrown, for he is seventeen,
but in the public street, whose security it is the burgomaster's duty to
guard."

"Very well then, make your complaint, take the youth before the judges,
summon witnesses and let the law follow its course. But, sir," continued
Van der Werff, softening the impatience in his voice, "were you not
young yourself once? Have you entirely forgotten the fights under
the citadel? What pleasure will it afford you, if we lock up a few
thoughtless lads for two days this sunny weather? The scamps will find
something amusing to do indoors, as well as out, and only the parents
will be punished."

The last words were uttered so cordially and pleasantly, that they could
not fail to have their effect upon the baron. He was a handsome
man, whose refined, agreeable features, of the true Netherland type,
expressed anything rather than severity.

"If you speak to me in this tone, we shall come to an agreement more
easily," he answered, smiling. "I will only say this. Had the brawl
arisen in sport, or from some boyish quarrel, I wouldn't have wasted
a word on the matter--but that children already venture to assail with
jeers and violence those who hold different opinions, ought not to be
permitted to pass without reproof. The boys shouted after my son the
absurd word--"

"It is certainly an insult," interrupted Van der Werff, "a very
disagreeable name, that our people bestow on the enemies of their
liberty."

The baron rose, angrily confronting the other.

"Who tells you," he cried, striking his broad breast, padded with silken
puffs, "who tells you that we grudge Holland her liberty? We desire,
just as earnestly as you, to win it back to the States, but by other,
straighter paths than Orange--"

"I cannot test here whether your pa