or, The Silver Skates 267

Dr. Boekman grew impatient.

“In a day — perhaps an hour. Talk with your mother,
boy, and let her decide. My time is short.”

Hans approached his mother. At first, when she looked
up at him, he could not utter a syllable; then, turning his
eyes away, he said in a firm voice, —

“ T must speak with the mother alone.”

Quick little Gretel, who could not quite understand what
was passing, threw rather an indignant look at Hans, and
walked away.

“ Come back, Gretel, and sit down,” said Hans, sorrow-
fully.

She obeyed.

Dame Brinker and her boy stood by the window, while the
doctor and his assistant, bending over the bedside, conversed
together in a low tone. There was no danger of disturbing
the patient. He appeared like one blind and deaf. Only his
faint, piteous moans showed him to be a living man. Hans
was talking earnestly, and in a low voice; for he did not wish
his sister to hear.

With dry, parted lips Dame Brinker leaned toward him,
searching his face, as if suspecting a meaning beyond his
words. Once she gave a quick, frightened sob that made
Gretel start, but, after that, listened calmly.

When Hans ceased to speak, his mother turned, gave one
long, agonized look at her husband, lying there so pale and
unconscious, and threw herself on her knees, beside the bed.

Poor little Gretel-! what did all this mean? She looked
with questioning eyes at Hans, he was standing, but his head
was bent as if in prayer; at the doctor, he was gently feeling
her father’s head, and looked like one examining some curious