y snare, had she known of its existence; for though, before the watery
world I am "Ronny dear" to her, she is not as considerate with me in
private as she used to be when we first started.

We have been frank with each other at times, the L.C.P. and I, and the
pot has said in plain words what it thinks of the kettle's true
character. When the time comes for us to part it may be that her little
ladyship will be still more frank, and let me know, in polite language,
that seeing the last of her borrowed nephew is "good riddance of bad
rubbish." Nevertheless, her extraordinary, though indescribable,
cleverness has woven a kind of web about us all; and whether I am able
to respect the L.C.P. or not, I was conscious of passionate gratitude to
her as she arrested me with the bad fish half-way to my mouth.

The boats stopped at a private landing, small, but so remarkable that I
thought for an instant the whole thing must be an optical illusion.

We had come to rest in the deep shadow of enormous trees. Leaning over
the rail of a snug little harbor two dummy men in rakish hats and dark
coats stared at the new arrivals with lack-luster eyes. And the dummies,
and the wooden wall on which they were propped, with a strange painted
motto consisting of snakes, and dogs, and sticks, and a yard measure,
were all repeated with crystal-clear precision in the green mirror of
quiet water.

"How annoying, just as we were going to have another delicious talk!"
exclaimed Menela.

"Yes," said I. "But it can't be helped. Where are we? Is this
fairyland?"

"It must be the place of Heer Dudok de Wit," answered the young lady,
snappily. "He is a wonderful man, and many people say that no visit to
Holland can be complete without a visit to his house. He's a great
character--has walked all over the world, and brought back curiosities
for his museum, to which he gives free admission. And from what I hear,
there is nothing else he won't give, if asked for it--he's so
generous--from a night's lodging or all his best peaches, up to a
present of a thousand gulden to a distressed stranger. This can be no
other house than his; and I believe Rudolph Brederode is a far-off
cousin of Heer de Wit, just as Rudolph is of mine, on the other side. I
don't see our host, though. Perhaps he is away on one of his walking
tours."

"Or in bed," said I. "Taking a noon-day nap, to forget the heat."

"No, for one of his peculiarities is, never to go to bed. He hasn