ellow as you? Why, youngster, you
haven't left off your pads yet!"

Now, in Holland very young children wear a thin, padded cushion around
their heads, surmounted with a framework of whalebone and ribbon, to
protect them in case of a fall; and it is the dividing line between
babyhood and childhood when they leave it off. Voost had arrived at this
dignity several years before; consequently Jacob's insult was rather to
great for endurance.

"Look out what you say!" he squeaked. "Lucky for you when you can leave
off YOUR pads--you're padded all over!"

"Ha! ha!" roared all the boys except Master Dobbs, who could not
understand. "Ha! ha!"--and the good-natured Jacob laughed more than any.

"It ish my fat--yaw--he say I bees pad mit fat!" he explained to Ben.

So a vote was passed unanimously in favor of allowing the now popular
Voost to join the party, if his parents would consent.

"Good night!" sang out the happy youngster, skating homeward with all
his might.

"Good night!"

"We can stop at Haarlem, Jacob, and show your cousin the big organ,"
said Peter van Holp eagerly, "and at Leyden, too, where there's no end
to the sights; and spend a day and night at the Hague, for my married
sister, who lives there, will be delighted to see us; and the next
morning we can start for home."

"All right!" responded Jacob, who was not much of a talker.

Ludwig had been regarding his brother with enthusiastic admiration.

"Hurrah for you, Pete! It takes you to make plans! Mother'll be as full
of it as we are when we tell her we can take her love direct to sister
Van Gend. My, but it's cold," he added. "Cold enough to take a fellow's
head off his shoulders. We'd better go home."

"What if it is cold, old Tender-skin?" cried Carl, who was busily
practicing a step he called the "double edge." "Great skating we should
have by this time, if it was as warm as it was last December. Don't you
know that if it wasn't an extra cold winter, and an early one into the
bargain, we couldn't go?"

"I know it's an extra cold night anyhow," said Ludwig. "Whew! I'm going
home!"

Peter van Holp took out a bulgy gold watch and, holding it toward the
moonlight as well as his benumbed fingers would permit, called out,
"Halloo! It's nearly eight o'clock! Saint Nicholas is about by this
time, and I, for one, want to see the little ones stare. Good night!"

"Good night!" cried one and all, and off they started, shouting,
singing, and laughing a