the curtain may
be said to have rung up on the first act.

Just then it was lifted only far enough to show a long, low waste of
gray-green, with a tuft or two of trees and a few shadowy individuals,
which the stage-hands had evidently set in motion for the benefit of the
leading ladies.

"We might be the Two Orphans," I said, "only you're not blind,
Phil--except in your sense of humor; and I'm afraid there are no wicked
Dutch noblemen to kidnap me----"

"Oh dear, I'm sure I hope not!" exclaimed Phil, looking as if a new
feather had been heaped on her load of anxieties.

The line was no longer gray now, nor was it a waste. It was a bright
green, floating ribbon, brocaded with red flowers; and soon it was no
ribbon, but a stretch of grassy meadow, and the red flowers were roofs;
yet meadows and roofs were not just common meadows and roofs, for they
belonged to Holland; and everybody knows--even those who haven't seen it
yet--that Holland is like no country in the world, except its queer,
cozy, courageous, obstinate little self.

The sky was blue to welcome us, and housewifely Dutch angels were
beating up the fat, white cloud-pillows before tucking them under the
horizon out of sight. Even the air seemed to have been washed till it
glittered with crystalline clearness that brought each feature of the
landscape strangely close to the eyes.

We were in the River Maas, which opened its laughing mouth wide to let
in our boat. But soon it was so busy with its daily toil that it forgot
to smile and look its best for strangers. We saw it in its brown
working-dress, giving water to ugly manufactories, and floating an army
of big ships, black lighters, and broadly built craft, which coughed
spasmodically as they forged sturdily and swiftly through the waters.
Their breath was like the whiff that comes from an automobile, and I
knew that they must be motor-barges. My heart warmed to them. They
seemed to have been sent out on purpose to say, "Your fun is going to
begin."

At last we were in Rotterdam, steaming slowly between two lines of
dignified quays, ornamented with rows of trees and backed by quaintly
built, many-colored brick houses--blue and green and pink, some nodding
forward, some leaning back. The front walls were carried up to conceal
the roofs; many of the facades tapered into triangles; others had double
curves like a swan's neck; some were cut into steps--so that there was
great variety, and an effect almost C