148 Hans Brinker

Jacob, who, in spite of his fat and sleepiness, was of a
rather sentimental turn, had listened with deep interest.

“That is right, little fellow,” he said, nodding his head ap-
provingly. ‘TI believe every word ofit. I shall never marry
a woman who would not be glad to do as much for me.”

“© Heaven help her!” cried Carl, turning to gaze at the
speaker. ‘¢ Why, Poot, three men couldn’t do it!”

“Perhaps not,” said Jacob, quietly, feeling that he had
asked rather too much of the future Mrs. Poot. ‘ But she
must be willing ; that is all.”

“ Ay!” responded Peter’s cheery voice. ‘ Willing heart
makes nimble foot; and who knows but it may make strong
arms also?”

“ Pete,” asked Ludwig, changing the subject, “did you tell
me, last night, that the painter Wouvermans was born in
Haarlem ? ”

“Yes; and Jacob Ruysdael and Berghem too. I like
Berghem, because he was always good-natured. They say he
always sang while he painted ; and, though he died nearly two
hundred years ago, there are traditions still afloat concerning
his pleasant laugh. He was a great painter; and he had a
wife as cross as Xantippe.”’

“They balanced each other finely,” said Ludwig: “he was
kind, and she was cross. But, Peter, before I forget it,
wasn’t that picture of St. Hubert and the Horse painted by
Wouvermans? ‘You remember father showed us an engrav-
ing from it, last night.”

“‘'Yes, indeed! There is a story connected with that
picture.”

“Tell us!” cried two or three, drawing closer to Peter as
they skated on.