Page:Hans Brinker, Or, The Silver Skates- A Story of Life in Holland (IA hansbrinkerorsi00dodggoog).pdf/47

 "Just like a picture," assented Hans, cheerfully, "just like a picture—only I don't like those stocking things on the hands."

"Not like the mitts, brother Hans! why they're very important—see—they cover up all the red. Oh, mother, how white your arm is where the mitt leaves off, whiter than mine, oh, ever so much whiter. I declare mother the bodice is tight for you. You're growing! you're surely growing!"

Dame Brinker laughed.

"This was made long ago, lovey, when I wasn't much thicker about the waist than a churn-dasher. And how do you like the cap?" turning her head from side to side.

"Oh, ever so much, mother. It's b-e-a-u-tiful! see! The father is looking!"

Was the father looking Alas, only with a dull stare. His vrouw turned toward him with a start, something like a blush rising to her cheeks, a questioning sparkle in her eye.—The bright look died away in an instant.

"No, no," she sighed, "he sees nothing. Come, Hans" (and the smile crept faintly back again) "don't stand gaping at me all day, and the new skates wait ing for you at Amsterdam."

"Ah, mother," he answered, "you need many things. Why should I buy skates?"

"Nonsense, child. The money was given to you on purpose, or the work was—it's all the same thing—Go while the sun is high."

"Yes, and hurry back, Hans!" laughed Gretel, "we'll race on the canal to-night, if the mother lets us."