Part 74

“It was nothing, mynheer,” said the dame, hastening to her son’s relief. “The lad’s whole soul was in having you win the race, I know it was!”

This helped matters beautifully.

“Ah, mynheer,” Hans hurried to say, “from the first start I felt stiff and strange on my feet. I was well out of it so long as I had no chance of winning.”

Peter looked rather distressed.

“We may hold different opinions here. That part of the business troubles me. It is too late to mend it now, but it would be really a kindness to me if--”

The rest of Peter’s speech was uttered so confidentially that I cannot record it. Enough to say, Hans soon started back in dismay, and Peter, looking very much ashamed, stammered out something to the effect that he would keep them, since he won the race, but it was “all wrong.”

Here Van Mounen coughed, as if to remind Peter that lecture hour was approaching fast. At the same moment Ben laid something upon the table.

“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 I could 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.”