richton. "Don't you think you've seen enough? It is late; and when I
told Brederode I was showing Delft to my American cousin and an English
friend, he said I must take you to the New Church, the tomb of William,
and of Hugo Grotius. He wanted you to go to the Old Church too, and see
the place where van Tromp lies, but we shall not have time. Besides, it
would not please Miss Rivers."

"Why not?" asked Phyllis, large-eyed.

"You are English, and the English do not like to remember that Holland,
through van Tromp, swept them off the seas--"

"Oh, I remember, he stuck up a broom on the mast," cut in Phil. "But it
was long ago."

"How is it that the tombs of William and Grotius can be in a _new_
church?" I reflected aloud.

"It is newer than the other, for it was founded in thirteen hundred and
something," said Cousin Robert; "I suppose you ought to see it, even if
dinner should be late. For, as Brederode says, 'Delft is the heart of
Holland, and the New Church is the core of that heart.' It is for us
what your Westminster Abbey is to you, Miss Rivers."

We went out from the old convent palace with its arched windows and
narrow doors into the gold and green light of the Delft afternoon. In
the street outside the courtyard stood the automobile, and the chauffeur
was polishing something on it (people in Holland seem always to be
polishing something, if they are obliged to stand still for a moment),
but Mr. Rudolph Brederode, alias William the Silent, had vanished, and I
was glad.

We got into the motor-car again, passing with every few yards some
beautiful old building. But one thing in Delft disappointed me; I saw no
storks, and I expected the air to be dark with storks.

"I don't think there are any now," said Robert, apologetically, "though
Brederode would know."

"Isn't it true that the stork's the patron saint of Delft?" I asked.
"Wasn't it here you had the fire which nearly ruined the city, hundreds
of years ago, and the parent storks wouldn't leave their babies, but
died covering them up with their wings? And didn't Holland take the
stork, after that, for a kind of--of motto for the whole country because
it was so brave and faithful?"

"Yes," Robert admitted, "Delft is not tired of storks, but storks are
tired of Delft. You can offer them nice nests on long poles, and all
kinds of inducements, to live in a certain place, but unless they
choose, you cannot make them do anything."

"Ah, _now_ I know why th