104 Hans Brinker

tirely English, while his is entirely Dutch. Old Great-grand-
father Poot married twice, you see; and I am a descendant of
his English wife. I like Jacob, though, better than half of my
English cousins put together. He is the truest-hearted, best-
natured boy I ever knew. Strange as you may think it, my
father became accidentally acquainted with Jacob’s father while
on a business visit to Rotterdam. They soon talked over their
relationship (in French, by the way); and they have corre-
sponded in that language ever since. Queer things come
about in this world. My sister Jenny would open her eyes at
some of Aunt Poot’s ways. Aunt is a thorough lady, but so
different from mother! . And the house, too, and furniture,
and way of living: everything is different.”

“Of course,” assented Lambert, complacently, as if to say,
“You could scarcely expect such general perfection anywhere
else than in Holland; ” “but you will have all the more to tell
Jenny when you go back.”

“Yes, indeed! I can say one thing, — if cleanliness is, as
they claim, next to godliness, Broek is safe. It is the cleanest
place I ever saw in my life. Why, my aunt Poot, rich as she
is, scrubs half the time; and her house looks as if it were var-
nished all over. I wrote to mother yesterday that I could see
my double always with me, feet to feet, in the polished floor
of the dining-room.”

“Your double! That word puzzles me: what do you
mean?”

“Oh! my reflection, my apparition,— Ben Dobbs num-
ber two.”

“ Ah, I see!” exclaimed Van Mounen. “Have you ever
been in your aunt Poot’s grand parlor?”

Ben laughed. “Only once; and that was on the day of