f the children thereabout can point it out to your
honor," added Hans with a heavy sigh. "They are all half afraid of the
place; they call it the idiot's cottage."

"That will do," said the doctor, hurrying on with a bright backward nod
at Hans. "I shall be there. A hopeless case," he muttered to himself,
"but the boy pleases me. His eye is like my poor Laurens's. Confound it,
shall I never forget that young scoundrel!" And, scowling more darkly
than ever, the doctor pursued his silent way.

Again Hans was skating toward Amsterdam on the squeaking wooden runners;
again his fingers tingled against the money in his pocket; again the
boyish whistle rose unconsciously to his lips.

Shall I hurry home, he was thinking, to tell the good news, or shall I
get the waffles and the new skates first? Whew! I think I'll go on!

And so Hans bought the skates.

Introducing Jacob Poot and His Cousin

Hans and Gretel had a fine frolic early on that Saint Nicholas's Eve.
There was a bright moon, and their mother, though she believed herself
to be without any hope of her husband's improvement, had been made so
happy at the prospect of the meester's visit, that she yielded to the
children's entreaties for an hour's skating before bedtime.

Hans was delighted with his new skates and, in his eagerness to show
Gretel how perfectly they "worked," did many things upon the ice that
caused the little maid to clasp her hands in solemn admiration. They
were not alone, though they seemed quite unheeded by the various groups
assembled upon the canal.

The two Van Holps and Carl Schummel were there, testing their fleetness
to the utmost. Out of four trials Peter van Holp had won three times.
Consequently Carl, never very amiable, was in anything but a good humor.
He had relieved himself by taunting young Schimmelpenninck, who, being
smaller than the others, kept meekly near them without feeling exactly
like one of the party, but now a new thought seized Carl, or rather he
seized the new thought and made an onset upon his friends.

"I say, boys, let's put a stop to those young ragpickers from the
idiot's cottage joining the race. Hilda must be crazy to think of it.
Katrinka Flack and Rychie Korbes are furious at the very idea of racing
with the girl; and for my part, I don't blame them. As for the boy, if
we've a spark of manhood in us, we will scorn the very idea of--"

"Certainly we will!" interposed Peter van Holp, purposely mist