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Updated: May 2, 2025
He never suspected that had Hilda, not Rychie, first talked with Katrinka upon the subject, the bells would have jingled as willing an echo. She would have said, "Certainly, let her join us," and would have skipped off thinking no more about it. But now Katrinka with sweet emphasis pronounced it a shame that a goose-girl, a forlorn little creature like Gretel, should be allowed to spoil the race.
He had heard Rychie declare that it was "Disgraceful, shameful, too bad!" which in Dutch, as in English, is generally the strongest expression an indignant girl can use; and he had seen Katrinka nod her pretty head and heard her sweetly echo, "Shameful, too bad!" as nearly like Rychie as tinkling bells can be like the voice of real anger. This had satisfied him.
Rychie lived in a beautiful house near Amsterdam, where the carved sideboards were laden with services of silver and gold and where silken tapestries hung in folds from ceiling to floor. Hilda's father owned the largest mansion in Broek. Its glittering roof of polished tiles and its boarded front, painted in half a dozen various colors, were the admiration of the neighborhood.
"I say, boys, let's put a stop to those young ragpickers from the idiot's cottage joining the race. Hilda must be crazy to think of it. Katrinka Flack and Rychie Korbes are furious at the very idea of racing with the girl; and for my part, I don't blame them. As for the boy, if we've a spark of manhood in us, we will scorn the very idea of "
There are new faces among the foremost eager, glowing faces, unnoticed before. Katrinka is there, and Hilda, but Gretel and Rychie are in the rear. Gretel is wavering, but when Rychie passes her, she starts forward afresh. Now they are nearly beside Katrinka. Hilda is still in advance, she is almost "home."
Then there was the proud Rychie Korbes, whose father, Mynheer van Korbes, was one of the leading men of Amsterdam; and, flocking closely around her, Carl Schummel, Peter and Ludwig van Holp, Jacob Poot, and a very small boy rejoicing in the tremendous name of Voostenwalbert Schimmelpenninck.
Rychie, Hilda, and Katrinka why, they had scarcely known any other thought than "The race, the race. It will come off on the twentieth!" These three girls were friends. Though of nearly the same age, talent, and station, they were as different as girls could be. Hilda van Gleck, as you already know, was a warm-hearted, noble girl of fourteen.
"Yes," chimed in half a dozen voices, "a beautiful pair of silver skates perfectly magnificent with, oh! such straps and silver bells and buckles!" "WHO said they had bells?" put in a small voice of the boy with the big name. "I say so, Master Voost," replied Rychie.
In another room a huge tortoiseshell dollhouse, fitted up in Dutch style and inhabited by dignified Dutch dolls, stands ready to tell you at a glance how people live in Holland. Gretel, Hilda, Katrinka, even the proud Rychie Korbes would have been delighted with this, but Peter and his gallant band passed it by without a glance.
She loved their freshness and fragrance and the lighthearted way in which their bell-shaped blossoms swung in the breeze. Carl was both right and wrong when he said that Katrinka and Rychie were furious at the very idea of the peasant Gretel joining in the race.
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