On the following day there was not a prouder nor a happier boy in
all Holland than Hans Brinker as he watched his sister, with many
a dexterous sweep, flying in and out among the skaters who at
sundown thronged the canal. A warm jacket had been given her by
the kind-hearted Hilda, and the burst-out shoes had been cobbled
into decency by Dame Brinker. As the little creature darted
backward and forward, flushed with enjoyment and quite
unconscious of the many wondering glances bent upon her, she felt
that the shining runners beneath her feet had suddenly turned
earth into fairyland while "Hans, dear, good Hans!" echoed itself
over and over again in her grateful heart.

"By den donder!" exclaimed Peter van Holp to Carl Schummel, "but
that little one in the red jacket and patched petticoat skates
well. Gunst! She has toes on her heels and eyes in the back of
her head! See her! It will be a joke if she gets in the race
and beats Katrinka Flack, after all."

"Hush! not so loud!" returned Carl, rather sneeringly. "That
little lady in rags is the special pet of Hilda van Gleck. Those
shining skates are her gift, if I make no mistake."

"So! so!" exclaimed Peter with a radiant smile, for Hilda was his
best friend. "She has been at her good work there too!" And
Mynheer van Holp, after cutting a double figure eight on the ice,
to say nothing of a huge P, then a jump and an H, glided onward
until he found himself beside Hilda.

Hand in hand, they skated together, laughingly at first, then
staidly talking in a low tone.