Connie tried to dart ahead of the cart. She could not move quickly
enough to stop the runaway dog.
On the cart clattered, directly toward the canal. Off rolled one of the
milk cans and Vevi nearly went with it. Never in her life had she been
more jolted or frightened!
When it seemed to her that she certainly would be dumped into the
canal, an amazing thing happened.
Out of the barn darted a little girl in shining yellow braids, blue
skirt and white apron.
“Bruno!” she yelled. Then she uttered a command in Dutch. Vevi could
not understand it, but the dog did. At any rate, he stopped so suddenly
that she nearly was tossed out of the cart again.
Connie grasped the dog’s harness. Vevi slid out of the cart as fast as
she could.
“You bad dog, you!” she said crossly.
The little girl in the blue dress came running up. Her blue eyes were
dancing with merriment.
“Oh, Bruno isn’t a bad dog,” she defended him. “He is a very good dog.
He carries our milk and does much hard work here on the farm.”
“Well, he nearly dumped me into the canal,” Vevi said, straightening
the crumpled skirt of her Brownie uniform.
“That was because you did not treat him right. If you would like a ride
in the cart, I will make him haul you very nicely.”
“No thanks,” Vevi turned down the invitation. “I’d rather ride in a
car--or a boat.”
“You must be Hanny,” said Connie, smiling in a friendly way.
“How did you know my name?” the other asked in surprise.
“Miss Mohr, the librarian told us.”
“Oh, I know her!” Hanny cried, and her plump face lighted up. “She is
very nice.”
“So is Miss Gordon, our Brownie Scout leader,” declared Vevi loyally.
“They are here now, with Mr. Piff, talking to Mr. Van Der Lann.”
“With Peter? He is my uncle.”
Hanny straightened the milk cans and then made Bruno haul them to the
cheese house. The dog behaved very well when she walked beside him. Not
once did he try to run away.
Vevi and Connie walked along with the little Dutch girl.
“Why do you call your boat the ‘Golden Tulip?’” Vevi inquired.
“Oh, that is a secret,” replied Hanny.
“A secret?” Vevi was annoyed by the answer. She could not guess why
anyone would want to make a mystery of such a simple matter.
“Someday everyone in Rosedale will know,” Hanny went on merrily. “Then
perhaps my uncle will be very rich and buy me a silk gown!”
“How you talk!” Vevi exclaimed. Never before had she met anyone like
Hanny.
Connie mentioned the boat again, asking the little Dutch girl if she
ever went for rides on the canal.
“Oh, yes, but not as often as I once did,” Hanny said, her face
clouding. “That is because of Freda and Joseph.”
“Who are they?” Vevi inquired.
“Freda and Joseph Mattox,” Hanny replied. “They have the farm just
below ours. They are not very nice and always make trouble. They will
not let me tie up the boat anywhere on their land.”
“You have a much prettier farm than theirs,” said Connie. “The windmill
is lovely.”
“Do you think so?” Hanny beamed with pleasure. “My uncle has spent
much money fixing up the farm so it will remind him of our beautiful
homeland. The Mattoxes, though, say he is wasteful of money. It is not
true!”
The little girl unloaded the empty milk cans. Then she unhitched Bruno
and let him run free.
“Would you like to see our cheese house?” she invited Connie and Vevi.
“Yes, indeed!” they exclaimed together. Both were eager to see every
inch of the fascinating farm.
Hanny pushed open the door and stood back so the visitors could enter
ahead of her. The room was sweet-smelling and spotlessly clean.
Along the walls were deep shelves laden with yellow, perfectly rounded
cheeses. Fresh milk stood on tables in blue and orange-colored pans.
“Each morning I skim the cream and churn it into butter,” explained
Hanny.
“You know how to churn?” Connie asked, deeply impressed.
“Oh, yes, I can make cheese too. We use the skimmed milk for that. I
add rennet which makes the solids separate from the liquid. The curds
or solid part goes into a bag to be pressed out. After it is salted, it
is set away to ripen. That takes several months.”
“How do you make the cheese into such nice round balls?” Connie
inquired, peering at the many even rows on the shelves.
Hanny explained that wooden molds were used. “But it is hard work,
making cheese,” she added with a sigh.
“I should think so,” agreed Vevi. “I would rather run the windmill or
make the dog carry the cans of milk.”
By this time the Brownies were beginning to feel very well acquainted
with Hanny. They no longer noticed that she spoke with a slight accent
or that sometimes she slipped in a “Ja” for the word “yes.” Connie told
the little Dutch girl about the Rosedale Brownie Scout organization and
asked if she would like to join the group.
“What do Brownies do?” asked Hanny.
“Loads of things,” explained Connie. “We make things and learn about
nature. To be a Brownie you can’t be older than nine years. You’re
supposed to be in second, third or fourth grade at school.”
“I am all mixed up at school,” Hanny said. “In arithmetic I am fourth
grade, but in English I am only second grade. I do not know so many of
your words.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Vevi declared. “Attending meetings is what
counts. You have to learn the Brownie Promise too.”
“What is that?”
Vevi recited it for her. “_I promise to do my best to love God and my
country, to help other people every day, especially those at home._”
“I could promise all that,” Hanny said soberly. “I love America very,
very much. I want to help people too, especially my uncle, Peter. If it
had not been for him, I never could have left The Netherlands.”
The little Dutch girl then went on to tell Vevi and Connie that until
recently she had lived in a little village near the city of Amsterdam.
Both of her parents were dead.
“I have no one in all the world except Peter,” she said. “He is very
good to me.”
Vevi felt so sorry for Hanny that she unpinned her Brownie Scout pin
and fastened it to the other’s blouse.
“Now you can pretend you’re a Brownie,” she declared. “When you get a
pin of your own, you can return mine.”
“After you have been a Brownie for a year, you may wear a flower
pendant with it,” Connie explained. “Both Vevi and I have pendants.”
Indeed, the two girls were charter members of the Rosedale Troop.
With Rosemary, Sunny and Jane they had made a wonderful trip to the
seashore. On another occasion they had gone with Miss Gordon to Snow
Valley. One of their most exciting adventures has been told in the book
called “The Brownie Scouts in the Cherry Festival.”
Now Connie and Vevi never missed a Brownie meeting if they could help
it. In Rosedale they lived next door to each other, and attended the
same school. They enjoyed doing the same things too.
“Tell me more about the Brownie Scouts,” Hanny said, fingering the pin
Vevi had given her.
“First you have to be invested,” Connie declared.
The word troubled Hanny. “But I do not have very much money to invest,”
she said. “My uncle cannot afford to give me much, for his nursery
does not yet pay well.”
“Oh, that isn’t what investment means!” laughed Vevi. “It means joining
the organization--being initiated.”
“It’s a ceremony and it is called in-ves-ti-ture,” Connie said,
spelling out the word. “You learn the Promise, the Salute, and the
Handshake and attend enough meetings to know all the girls. Then you’re
ready to be a Brownie.”
“I see,” nodded Hanny. “I am so very stupid.”
“No such thing,” cried Vevi, seizing her hand. “It always takes a while
to catch on. But being a Brownie is fun. We have hikes and do lots of
things out of doors. We learn to keep house, too. That part I don’t
like so well.”
“That would be easy for me,” laughed Hanny. “I can sweep, iron, and
cook! Peter says I am worth two girls in the house!”
The children talked a while about the Brownies and then left the cheese
house. Hanny said she would show Connie and Vevi the barn and the mill.
“And what’s in that little house over there?” Vevi asked curiously.
The shack she had noticed stood between the mill and the barn. It had
no windows. The door was closed and fastened with a padlock.
“I cannot show you that place,” said Hanny.
“Do you keep animals inside?” asked Vevi. She was more curious than
ever now.
“Not animals,” Hanny corrected. “Our cows stay in the barn.”
“But what _do_ you keep in there, Hanny?” Vevi persisted.
“Vevi!” reproved Connie. She did not consider it good manners to ask so
many questions.
“I cannot tell you about the little house,” Hanny soberly replied to
Vevi’s question. “Please--the secret is not mine to relate.”
Vevi might have teased a bit. Before she could do so, however, the
children were startled to hear loud angry voices. They could not see
the speakers, but the sound came from the direction of the house.
“Uncle Peter has lost his temper again!” Hanny gasped. “Oh, dear!”
Gathering up her skirts, she ran swiftly toward the veranda.
_Chapter 3_