ary brilliance of the
windows added to the jewel-like effect. Each pane was a separate
glittering square of crystal, and the green light flickered and glanced
on the quaint little tilted spying-mirrors in which Dutch ladies see the
life of the streets, themselves unseen.

The houses were of brown or purplish brick, with curiously ornamented
doorways, the stucco decorations running in wavy lines up to the level
of the first story windows; the door-steps white as pearl in the green
glimmer; but there was nothing striking in the way of architecture until
we swept into sight of an old Gothic building, blazing with colored
coats-of-arms, ancient and resplendent.

"That's the Gemeenlandshuis van Delfsland," said Cousin Robert, with a
beautiful confidence in our comprehension; and then, slowing down the
car before a dark, high wall, with a secretive-looking door in the
midst, "Here's the Prinzenhof, where William the Silent lived, and where
Balthazar Gerard killed him."

"Oh," I exclaimed, as he was driving on, "can't we stop--can't we go
in?"

"We could, but--I should not like to make us late for dinner," Cousin
Robert demurred.

"Dinner? Why, it's ages before dinner, and----"

"We dine at half-past five," said he.

Phil and I gazed at each other with lifted eyebrows. Phil was pale, and
I felt a sudden constriction of the throat. The idea of eating dinner at
the hour when our souls cried for tea and toast, was little short of
ghastly. Noblesse obliged us to conceal our loathing, but I did venture
meekly to suggest that if we drove faster afterwards perhaps we might
spare a few minutes for the Prinzenhof.

"There are things in The Hague you will want to stop for, too," said
Robert. "But my sisters and I can bring you to see the pictures, and the
Royal Palace and the Huis ten Bosch to-morrow; besides, I remember my
mother meant to put off dinner for us until six, so we will, maybe, not
be too late."

One should be thankful for the smallest mercies; and I hoped that the
craving for tea might have subsided into callous resignation by six.
What Phil, as a born Englishwoman, must have been feeling, I could
easily conceive; and it was a pity this shock to her system had arrived
on our first day, for only just before the blow she had said that
Holland seemed too enchanting: she was glad, after all, that she had
come, and would like to learn the language.

Luckily, Cousin Robert had remembered the change in the domestic p