"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 waiting for you at Amsterdam."

"Ah, Mother," he answered, "you need so 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 tonight, if the mother lets us."

At the very threshold he turned to say, "Your spinning wheel wants a new treadle, Mother."

"You can make it, Hans."

"So I can. That will take no money. But you need feathers and wool and meal, and--"

"There, there! That will do. Your silver cannot buy everything. Ah! Hans, if our stolen money would but come back on this bright Saint Nicholas's Eve, how glad we would be! Only last night I prayed to the good saint--"

"Mother!" interrupted Hans in dismay.

"Why not, Hans? Shame on you to reproach me for that! I'm as true a Protestant, in sooth, as any fine lady that walks into church, but it's no wrong to turn sometimes to the good Saint Nicholas. Tut! It's a likely story if one can't do that, without one's children flaring up at it--and he the boys' and girls' own saint. Hoot! Mayhap the colt is a steadier horse than the mare?"