292 Hans Brinker

“Did the meester say he must have these things, mother ? ”
asked Hans.

“© Yes, he did.”

“Well, mother, don’t cry: be shall have them. I shall
bring meat and wine before night. Take the cover from
my bed. I can sleep in the straw.”

“Yes, Hans; but it-is heavy, scant as it is. The meester
said he must have something light and warm. He will perish.
Our peat is giving out, Hans. The father has wasted it sorely,
throwing it on when I was not looking, dear man.”

“¢ Never mind, mother,” whispered Hans, cheerfully. ‘We
can cut down the willow-tree and burn it, if need be; but [’ll
bring home something to-night. There must be work in Am-
sterdam, though there ’s none in Broek. Never fear, mother:
the worst trouble of all is past. We can brave anything, now
that the father is himself again.”

“Ay!” sobbed Dame Brinker, hastily drying her eyes, “ that
is true indeed,”

“Of course it is. Look at him, mother; how softly he
sleeps! Do you think God would let him starve, just after
. giving him back to us? Why, mother, I’m as sure of getting
all the father needs as if my pocket was bursting with gold.
There, now, don’t fret.” And, hurriedly kissing her, Hans
caught up his skates, and slipped from the cottage.

Poor Hans! Disappointed in his morning’s errand, half
sickened with this new trouble, he wore a brave look, and tried
to whistle as he tramped resolutely off with the firm intention
of mending matters.

Want had never before pressed so sorely upon the Brinker
family. Their stock of peat ‘was nearly exhausted; and all
the flour in the cottage was in Gretel’s dough. ‘They had