or, The Silver Skates 65

«¢ Put up your money, boy, I do not want it. We will see
your father. It is a hopeless case, I fear. How long did you
say?”

“ Ten years, mynheer,” sobbed Hans, radiant with sudden
hope.

“© Ah! a bad case. But I shall see him. Let me think.
To-day I start for Leyden, to return in a week; then you
may expect me. Where is it ?”

“© A mile south of Broek, mynheer, near the canal. It is
only a poor, broken-down hut. Any of the children there-
about can point it out to your Honor,” added Hans, with a
heavy sigh. ‘ They are all half afraid of the place: they call
it the ‘ idiot’s cottage.’ ”

“That will do,” said the doctor, hurrying on, with a bright
backward nod at Hans: “TI shall be there. A hopeless case,”
he muttered to himself; “but the boy pleases me. His eye
is like my poor Laurens. Confound it! shall I never forget
that young scoundrel?” And, scowling more darkly than
ever, the doctor pursued his silent way.

Again Hans was skating toward Amsterdam, on the squeak-
ing wooden runners; again his fingers tingled against the
money in his pocket; again the boyish whistle rose uncon-
sciously to his lips.

‘¢ Shall I hurry home,” he was thinking, “to tell the good
news; or shall I get the waffles and the new skates first?
Whew! I think Ill go on! ”

And so Hans bought the skates.

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