"Ah," exclaimed Peter, "I forgot my other errand. Your sister ran off so quickly today that Madame van Gleck had no opportunity to give her the case for her skates.""S-s-t!" said Dame Brinker, shaking her head reproachfully at Gretel. "She was a very rude girl, I'm sure." Secretly she was thinking that very few women had such a fine little daughter.""No, indeed"--Peter laughed--"she did exactly the right thing--ran home with her richly won treasures. Who would not?
Don't let us detain you, Hans," he continued, turning around as he spoke, but Hans, who was eagerly watching his father, seemed to have forgotten their presence.
Meantime, Raff, lost in thought, was repeating, under his breath, "Thomas Higgs, Thomas Higgs, aye, that's the name. Alack! if Icould but remember the place as well."The skate case was elegantly made of crimson morocco, ornamented with silver. If a fairy had designed its delicate tracery, they could not have been more daintily beautiful. "For the Fleetest"was written upon the cover in sparkling letters. It was lined with velvet, and in one corner was stamped the name and address of the maker.
Gretel thanked Peter in her own simple way, then, being quite delighted and confused and not knowing what else to do, she lifted the case, carefully examining it in every part. "It's made by Mynheer Birmingham," she said after a while, still blushing and holding it before her eyes.
"Birmingham!" replied Lambert van Mounen, "that's the name of a place in England. Let me see it.""Ha! ha!" He laughed, holding the open case toward the firelight. "No wonder you thought so, but it's a slight mistake.
The case was made at Birmingham, but the maker's name is in smaller letters. Humph! They're so small, I can't read them.""Let me try," said Peter, leaning over his shoulder. "Why, man, it's perfectly distinct. It's T-H--it's T--""Well!" exclaimed Lambert triumphantly, "if you can read it so easily, let's hear it, T-H, what?""T.H.-T.H. Oh! Why, Thomas Higgs, to be sure," replied Peter, pleased to be able to decipher it at last. Then, feeling that they had been acting rather unceremoniously, he turned to Hans.
Peter turned pale! What was the matter with the people? Raff and Hans had started up and were staring at him in glad amazement. Gretel looked wild. Dame Brinker, with an unlighted candle in her hand, was rushing about the room, crying, "Hans!
Hans! Where's your hat? Oh, the meester! Oh the meester!""Birmingham! Higgs!" exclaimed Hans. "Did you say Higgs? We've found him! I must be off.""You see, young masters." The dame was panting, at the same time snatching Hans's hat from the bed, "you see--we know him. He's our--no, he isn't. I mean--oh, Hans, you must go to Amsterdam this minute!""Good night, mynheers," panted Hans, radiant with sudden joy.
"Good night. You will excuse me, I must go.
Birmingham--Higgs--Higgs--Birmingham." And seizing his hat from his mother and his skates from Gretel he rushed from the cottage.
What could the boys think, but that the entire Brinker family had suddenly gone crazy!
They bade an embarrassed "Good evening," and turned to go. But Raff stopped them.
"This Thomas Higgs, young masters, is a--a person.""Ah!" exclaimed Peter, quite sure that Raff was the most crazy of all.
"Yes, a person. A--ahem--a friend. We thought him dead. I hope it is the same man. In England, did you say?""Yes, Birmingham," answered Peter. "It must be Birmingham in England.""I know the man," said Ben, addressing Lambert. "His factory is not four miles from our place. A queer fellow--still as an oyster--doesn't seem at all like an Englishman. I've often seen him--a solemn-looking chap, with magnificent eyes. He made a beautiful writing case once for me to give Jenny on her birthday.
Makes pocketbooks, telescope cases, and all kinds of leatherwork."As this was said in English, Van Mounen of course translated it for the benefit of all concerned, noticing meanwhile that neither Raff nor his vrouw looked very miserable, though Raff was trembling and the dame's eyes were swimming with tears.
You may believe that the doctor heard every word of the story, when later in the evening he came driving back with Hans. "The three young gentlemen have been gone some time," Dame Brinker said, "but like enough, by hurrying, it would be easy to find them coming out from the lecture, wherever that was.""True," said Raff, nodding his head. "The vrouw always hits upon the right thing. It would be well to see the young English gentleman, mynheer, before he forgets all about Thomas Higgs.
It's a slippery name, d'ye see? One can't hold it safe a minute.
It come upon me sudden and strong as a pile driver, and my boy writ it down. Aye, mynheer, I'd haste to talk with the English lad. He's seen your son many a time--only to think on't!"Dame Brinker took up the thread of the discourse.
"You'll pick out the lad quick enough, mynheer, because he's in company with Peter van Holp, and his hair curls up over his forehead like foreign folk's, and if you hear him speak, he talks of big and fast, only it's English, but that wouldn't be any hindrance to your honor."The doctor had already lifted his hat to go. With a beaming face he muttered something about its being just like the young scamp to give himself a rascally English name, called Hans "my son,"thereby making that young gentleman as happy as a lord, and left the cottage with very little ceremony, considering what a great meester he was.
The grumbling coachman comforted himself by speaking his mind as he drove back to Amsterdam. Since the doctor was safely stowed away in the coach and could not hear a word, it was a fine time to say terrible things of folks who hadn't no manner of feeling for nobody, and who were always wanting the horses a dozen times of a night.
