Gretel thanked Peter in her own simple way; then, being quite delighted and confused, and not knowing what else to do, 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 they had been behaving rather unceremoniously, he turned toward 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," panted the dame, at the same time snatching Hans' 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.