"Sleep well," said Peter Grimm. "I wish you the very pleasantest of dreams a boy could have in this world."

"Sleep well," said Peter Grimm. "I wish you the very pleasantest of dreams a boy could have in this world"

The doctor's step sounded presently in the adjoining kitchen. As though awakened by it, Willem opened his eyes and sat up. The fever flush was gone from his cheeks, the fever glaze from his look. The lassitude that had weighted every joint in his sick little body had fled, to be replaced by a strange, glorious buoyancy.

With a glad shout, Willem sprang up and raced across the floor into Peter Grimm's outstretched arms.

"Huge moroche, Mynheer Grimm!" he cried. "Oh, I am well! I never was so well before. It's wonderful to be like this."

"You are happy, too?"

"Oh! Happy? It's like school being over!"

"Good!" laughed Peter Grimm. "It will always be like that now. Come! Let's be off."