42 Hans Brinker

if mother sends us to town to-morrow, you can buy the skates
in the market-place.”’

Hans shook his head. ‘The young lady would have given
us the money to buy skates; but, if I earn it, Gretel, it shall
be spent for wool. You must have a warm jacket.”

“ Oh!” cried Gretel, in real dismay. “ Not buy the skates.
Why, I am not often cold. Mother ‘says the blood runs up
and down in poor children’s veins, humming, ‘I must keep
’em warm; I must keep ’em warm!’

“© Hans!” she continued, with something like a sob,
“don’t say you won’t buy the skates: it makes me feel just
like crying. Besides, I want to be cold —I mean I’m real,
awful warm — so, now!”

Hans looked up hurriedly. He had a true Dutch horror of
tears, or emotion of any kind; and, most of all, he dreaded to
see his sister’s blue eyes overflowing.

“Now mind,” cried Gretel, seeing her advantage, “Ill
feel awful if you give up the skates. J don’t want them: I’m
not such a stingy as that. But I want you to have them; and
then, when I get bigger, they ’Il do for me. Oh-h! count the
pieces, Hans. Did ever you see so many?”

Hans turned the money thoughtfully in his palm. Never in
all his life had he longed so intensely for a pair of skates; for
he had known of the race, and had, boylike, fairly ached for a
chance to test his powers with the other children. He felt
confident that, with a good pair of steel runners, he could
readily distance most of the boys on the canal. Then, too,
Gretel’s argument was so plausible. On the other hand, he
knew that she, with her strong but lithe little frame, needed
but a week’s practice on good runners to make her a better
skater than Rychie Korbes, or even Katrinka Flack. As soon