Chapter II: Part 2

Everywhere Vevi and the other Brownies saw wonderful flowers. All were so pretty that they could not decide which one was nicer than the others. Jane loved a large flame colored tulip. Sunny’s favorite was a tall rose-hued variety with dark throat.

Then unexpectedly, Vevi saw the tulip that held her eye like a magnet. Only a single flower was in bloom, surrounded by other tulips in bud. Yet the single specimen, each petal perfect, was breath taking.

The flower had a long, straight stem and in color was a pure, golden yellow. Compared to it, all other yellow tulips in the field appeared faded.

“There it is! The one I like best!” cried Vevi.

“It’s my choice too,” declared Connie.

Hanny smiled in an odd sort of way. She seemed very pleased that her friends liked the tulip.

“This isn’t the special tulip, is it?” demanded Rosemary.

Hanny just kept smiling and did not answer.

“Does this flower have a name?” Vevi asked eagerly.

“We call it the ‘Golden Beauty.’”

“‘The Golden Beauty’,” Vevi repeated triumphantly. “That proves it! Your boat has almost the same name! You can’t fool us, Hanny! We’ve discovered the tulip your uncle intends to enter in the prize contest!”

_Chapter Six_

WOODEN SHOES

Hanny would not admit that Vevi had guessed which tulip her uncle intended to enter in the blue ribbon contest.

All the Brownies clustered about the plant, exclaiming at the beauty of the single bloom.

“The petals look like spun gold!” declared Connie, peering down into the tulip’s deep cup.

“This is the tulip your uncle developed, isn’t it?” demanded Vevi. She wanted to force Hanny to tell.

However, Hanny only laughed.

Quickly, she led the Brownies on to another section of the field, devoted entirely to purple flowers.

“You may each pick a bouquet of these,” she told the girls. “They are the common type of tulips--not special like the others. Next week, you may have all the tulips you can pick.”

“Loads and loads of them?” Sunny asked eagerly.

“We’ll have more than we can sell,” Hanny explained. “Uncle Peter likes to have the blossoms picked off, so that the strength of the bulb will not be sapped.”

The little girl told the Brownies that during the next week, hundreds of visitors likely would come to the farm to see the flowers in bloom. Many would order bulbs for fall delivery, selecting the color and type they liked best.

“If Uncle Peter receives many orders, I may be able to stay in America,” Hanny declared. “I hope people like the new varieties he has developed.”

The little Dutch girl next took the Brownies to an adjoining field, ablaze with rare and splendid colors.

“Uncle Peter calls these his ‘Rembrandt’ tulips,” Hanny said.

“Wasn’t Rembrandt a famous painter?” inquired Connie.

“The tulips were named for him because of their beautiful colors,” Hanny explained. “When Darwin tulips ‘break’ into fantastic color combinations, they are called Rembrandts.”

“I like this one,” declared Rosemary.

She pointed to a tulip which was very exotic appearing with flame-red petals on a white background.

“It is very pretty,” said Vevi, “but I like the Golden Beauty much better.”

Connie asked Hanny what caused tulips to change color or to “break” as horticulturists called it.

“Uncle Peter says ‘breaking’ is really a tulip disease, caused by the combined action of two viruses,” the little Dutch girl explained. “The flowers change color, but the plant keeps growing normally.”

“My, there must be a lot to growing tulips,” sighed Sunny.

As the children trooped out of the Rembrandt field, they spied Peter Van Der Lann near the office. He was watering a display of potted plants as he chatted with Miss Mohr and the Brownie Scout leader.

Hanny immediately sought him to ask if he would have time to make wooden shoes for the girls.

The nurseryman put aside his watering can. “And why should I make wooden shoes?” he asked, smiling indulgently at his beloved niece.

“Because the Brownie Scouts need them to wear at Mrs. Langley’s flower show. You can’t turn them down, Uncle Peter, because they have invited me to be a Brownie too! May I, Uncle Peter?”

Miss Gordon and the librarian already had talked to the nurseryman about his niece joining the organization. So Peter had his answer ready.

“You may join, little Hanny,” he declared. “And I will make the shoes.”

“It must be done quickly, for the flower show is next week,” Hanny said anxiously. “When will you make the shoes, Uncle Hanny?”

“I will take the measurements now,” he said. “Run for my tape measure.”

Miss Mohr and Miss Gordon protested that the nurseryman was far too busy to take time to carve wooden shoes for the children.

“I will do it at night,” he replied. “To whittle wood provides relaxation after a hard day in the fields.”

The two young women declared that they would pay for the work. Mr. Van Der Lann would not hear of such a thing. He insisted that the children were Hanny’s friends and his, and that it was little enough he could do to show his liking.

Soon Hanny came running back with a tape measure. Peter sat the children on a bench, and one by one, measured their feet.

Carefully, he marked down the figures on a sheet of paper.

“Connie has the largest foot,” he reported. “For her shoes I must have a very long piece of white wood.”

“What will our shoes look like when they are finished?” asked Rosemary.

“I will show you,” Hanny said.

Off she darted to the house again. In a moment she returned, two pairs of wooden shoes tucked under her arms.

The shoes were too small for Connie and Jane, but the other Brownies tried them on. First Sunny tried to walk in them.

Her feet felt very stiff and awkward. After she had taken four steps one of the shoes slipped off.

“You don’t do it right,” laughed Hanny. “See, I will show you.”

She slipped into the shoes which were an exact fit. Instead of walking, she ran across the yard toward the cheese house. The door was open.

One moment the children saw Hanny and her long braids framed in the doorway. The next instant she had disappeared into the building.

But setting neatly by the door were the wooden shoes!

“How did she do that?” cried Vevi in admiration. “Why, she didn’t even slow down when she went through the doorway!”

“I never saw her slip off her shoes,” added Jane. “She did it in a flash.”

“Hanny learned that trick when she was very young,” Peter chuckled. “She did not like to take time to remove her shoes before entering the house, so she learned to take them off on the fly.”

Hanny only stayed in the cheese house a moment. Soon she came out to pick up her shoes again.

“Let me see if I can do that!” cried Vevi.

Hanny gave her the shoes, putting on her leather ones again.

“I like these American shoes much better,” she said. “Wooden shoes are clumsy.”

Vevi slipped into the sabots. She took four little choppy steps and then one of the shoes sailed off.

“I can’t run in them at all,” Vevi said, very much discouraged.

She went after the shoe which had rolled down a slope toward the canal. Hanny skipped after her to the water’s edge.

“I’ll show you something else you can do with a wooden shoe,” she told the Brownies. “Watch!”

Picking up the wooden shoe that Vevi had lost she carefully set it down in the shallow water.

“See, a boat!” she laughed.

The wooden shoe turned slowly around in the sluggish water. Then toe forward, it began to drift lazily away.

“Hey, get it quick!” cried Vevi in alarm.

“Oh, it won’t sail far,” laughed Hanny.

She was right too, because in just a minute the shoe snagged on a stick and was held fast.

“Say, that’s fun, sailing boats!” cried Vevi. “Where is the other shoe?”

“On your foot, stupe!” laughed Jane.

The joke certainly was on Vevi, for in the excitement of watching the “boat” she had forgotten that its mate still was on her left foot.

All the Brownies were eager to play “boat.”

“Is it safe?” Miss Gordon anxiously asked the nurseryman.

“Oh, they can’t any more than splash their clothing,” he replied. “The water barely is deep enough to float the boat.”

Reassured, Miss Gordon told the children to have a good time, but to be very careful. She and Miss Mohr then went off with Peter to see some of the tulips.

Connie watched the three walk away. She noticed that the nurseryman seemed especially friendly with Miss Mohr.

“I think he likes her,” she whispered to Vevi. “See, he is picking her a bouquet of tulips.”

“He likes Miss Gordon too,” Vevi replied carelessly. All her attention now had centered on the wooden shoe boats.

“Not the same way though,” insisted Connie. “He smiles at her sort of special. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if they’d fall in love? Then Hanny could stay here always--”

Vevi gave her friend a sharp jab in the ribs.

“Hush!” she warned. “Do you want Hanny to hear? Anyway, you get crazy ideas, Connie Williams!”

For the next twenty minutes the Brownies had a wonderful time at the water’s edge. They peeled off their stockings and sat on the bridge, splashing their toes.

It was great fun sailing the wooden shoes in the lazy current. Now and then a “boat” would fill with water and sink. Then one of the girls would wade to its rescue.

“My shoe is a torpedo boat!” Vevi shouted. “I’m coming after your boat, Jane.”

She propelled the shoe, making it crack into the other.

The Brownies played “war” for a few minutes before discovering that the wooden shoes made good sand scoops. Sand castles occupied them after that.

Connie noticed that Miss Mohr, Miss Gordon and Peter had started back from the tulip fields.

“It must be nearly time to leave,” she said anxiously. “Vevi McGuire, just look at your dress! What will Miss Gordon say?”

“Yours is splashed too!” Vevi replied, trying to brush off the water drops from her skirt. “It has a spot of mud on the sleeve.”

“We’d better quit this game before we get any dirtier,” Rosemary declared uneasily. “Let’s clean up the wooden shoes.”

She gathered up one pair and began to wash out the sand.

Vevi looked about for the other shoes. One lay at the water’s edge. The other was nowhere to be seen.

“Connie, did you have Hanny’s shoe?” she inquired.

Connie shook her head.

“You had it last,” she reminded Vevi. “Remember? When you were playing torpedo.”

“I don’t recall taking it out of the water,” Vevi said, glancing anxiously down the canal. “Did anyone else pick it up?”

No one had seen the shoe.

“It must have drifted away,” Hanny said. “Oh, dear, it belonged to my best pair too.”

“Where does the canal lead?” Connie questioned.

“Past the Mattox farm and on to a drainage ditch. The shoe couldn’t have drifted far though, because the Mattoxes have a footwalk across the water. That would stop the shoe if it went that far.”

“Let’s go see!” proposed Vevi. She started off toward the adjoining property which was separated from the Van Der Lann place by a tall fence.

“No! No!” Hanny called after her. “We must not trespass.”

Vevi did not climb over the fence. But she crawled high up on it so she could see far down the canal.

“I don’t see the shoe anywhere,” she said, and then she corrected herself. “Oh, yes, I do!”

“Where?” cried Hanny.

“It has snagged on a pile of sticks there where the canal turns a bit!”

Hanny climbed up on the fence beside Vevi. She too saw the runaway shoe.

“I’ll run and get it,” Vevi offered. She was not afraid to cross the Mattox land.

“No, no!” Hanny said in earnest protest. “Uncle Peter has told me that I must never set foot on their property. They are so very unpleasant.”

“Then how will we get the shoe?” Vevi demanded.

Hanny thought hard for a second and then had an idea.

“The watercourse belongs to everybody,” she declared. “I will take the boat and fetch the shoe!”

_Chapter Seven_

A RUNAWAY ‘BOAT’

Vevi and Connie offered to go with Hanny to recover the missing wooden shoe. They thought it odd, however, that the Mattox couple should be so strict about anyone walking on their land.

“Is it safe to go in the boat?” questioned Connie as the children walked back to the canal.

“Oh, yes, the water isn’t deep,” Hanny replied. “I will get the oars.”

She ran to the barn, returning with them in a moment. Then she untied the boat and climbed in.

All of the Brownies were eager for a ride on the canal. Hanny though, could not take everyone.

“Vevi and Connie spoke first,” she said. “So I will take them.”

The two Brownies stepped into the boat with their armful of tulip blooms. By this time the flowers had wilted a bit. Vevi dipped the stems into the canal for a moment and then put the bouquets on the bottom of the boat.

As she bent down she noticed that a little water was seeping in through the boards.

“Say, I think this old boat is leaking!” she cried.

“It always does a little,” Hanny replied, picking up the oars.

Vevi and Connie moved their feet so that their shoes would not get wet.

“Shove us off,” Hanny urged the Brownies who had remained ashore.

Jane gave the boat a mighty push. Out it shot into the current. For a moment, before slowing down, the craft went almost as fast as if it had a motor.

“Say, this is fun!” shouted Vevi.

Jane, Rosemary and Sunny ran along the bank beside the boat. When they reached the fence that separated Mr. Van Der Lann’s property from the Mattox farm, they had to stop.

Hanny began to row. She handled the oars very well and kept the boat steady in the middle of the canal.

“Say, this old boat is leaking fast!” Vevi observed very soon. “My feet are getting wet.”

“So are mine,” declared Connie, shifting to another place in the boat.

Hanny told Vevi to look for a bailing can under the seat. The container could not be found.

“I remember, I used it for something else last week and forgot to put it back,” Hanny admitted.

Vevi and Connie began to squirm nervously. The water was not deep but it kept spreading over the bottom of the boat.

“I want out of this old tub,” Vevi suddenly announced. “It is going to sink!”

Hanny insisted that the boat was safe. “I can’t let you out because we are at the Mattox place now,” she added. “We will soon have that runaway shoe and be back home.”

Vevi and Connie forgot the leaking boat as they looked about with interest. From the Van Der Lann place tall trees and bushes had screened their view of the other nursery.

Now they saw the big greenhouse with its glass roof and a small cottage very much in need of paint. A few tulips were in bloom, but the flowers were not as large or as showy as those on Peter’s place.

“The Mattoxes lived here before my uncle started his nursery,” Hanny told her friends. “They were annoyed when he bought land next to their property. They had expected to add it to their own place.”

“Is that Mrs. Mattox?” Connie asked. She had noticed a woman in a blue straw hat working in the fields.

“Her name is Freda,” Hanny said. “If she sees us, she may speak crossly. She does not like me or Uncle Peter.”

“Say, my feet are wet!” Vevi suddenly cried.

“The water is coming into this boat faster and faster,” Connie declared uneasily. “Hanny, you must pull up on shore.”

“Mrs. Mattox won’t like it.”

“Who cares about her?” Vevi demanded. “We are getting wet, Hanny.”

The little Dutch girl guided the boat to a sandy stretch of beach along the canal. After Connie and Vevi had leaped out, she pulled the craft up on shore so it would not drift away.

“Mrs. Mattox has seen us,” Hanny said, glancing over her shoulder. “Oh! Oh! She has dropped her hoe and is coming this way.”

“Let’s get the wooden shoe as fast as we can and run!” Vevi urged.

Abandoning the boat, the children ran to the clutter of debris where the runaway shoe had caught fast.

But when Connie tried to capture it, she only succeeded in setting it free. Off it floated again down the canal.

“Hey, come back here, shoe!” she cried.

The “boat” drifted lazily along until finally it lodged against a footbridge.

“Now we can get it,” declared Vevi.

“And Mrs. Mattox will get us,” added Hanny nervously. “She is walking straight to our boat.”

The children walked quickly out on the footbridge. The narrow planking bent under their weight and dipped low into the water.

“It’s going to break!” Vevi exclaimed fearfully.

“Oh, a footbridge always wobbles,” Connie reassured her. “Here, hold my hand while I grab the old shoe.”

Vevi steadied her so she could bend down and rescue the shoe.

“Now back to the boat!” Hanny urged. “We are going to get a scolding, I can tell you.”

Mrs. Mattox did not pay very much attention to the three girls as they hurried up the canal. In fact, she seemed deeply engrossed examining something in the bottom of the boat.

“What is she doing?” Vevi asked curiously.

“Maybe she is trying to stop the leak in our boat,” Connie speculated.

Hanny however, had sharper eyes.

“She is looking at our tulips,” she told her companions. “Just see her poking about among the blossoms.”

“Why would she do that?” Vevi whispered. By this time the children had drawn quite close to the boat.

“She’s trying to see what varieties Uncle Peter is raising this year,” Hanny declared. “I think she is hoping to find out if we have a tulip that will win the blue ribbon.”

Mrs. Mattox had heard the children come up. She straightened, dropping a red tulip.

For a minute the girls thought she intended to scold them for coming onto her property. Instead, she merely stared at them.

“Our boat is leaking,” Hanny said politely. “That is why we walked on your land.”

“It isn’t the first time you have done it,” the woman answered. She kept eyeing the tulips in the boat.

“Hanny gave us some flowers,” Connie said to make conversation. She always tried to be friendly with everyone. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

“Humph! Very ordinary tulips I would say,” replied Mrs. Mattox. “Which one is your uncle entering in the flower show, Hanny?”

“I cannot say, Mrs. Mattox.”

“None of these, I’d judge.”

Hanny remained silent. Her unwillingness to talk angered the woman.

“How many times have I told you not to come onto my property?” she berated the children. “You tramp the flowers and damage our plantings.”

Hanny knew the accusations were unfair. It was true, though, that she had been told repeatedly not to trespass.

“We are leaving now,” she said.

“Take this leaky old tub with you,” Mrs. Mattox ordered crossly. “You will have to tow it back by the rope because it is becoming waterlogged. Now, begone!”

Hanny seized the rope and started to pull the boat alongshore. Mrs. Mattox followed close behind to see that she did not do any damage.

“I am sorry about the boat,” Hanny apologized again. “My uncle plans soon to build a new one.”

“Such foolishness!” the nurseryman’s wife exclaimed. “First it was a windmill! What will it be next? Always foolishness.”

“I like the windmill,” Vevi said, speaking in Peter’s defense. “His farm is very pretty. It is nicer than this one.”

Now the little girl should not have made the remark. She was sorry the moment she had said the words. Mrs. Mattox lost her temper at once.

“Oh, so Peter Van Der Lann has a better nursery than ours!” she exclaimed. “Well, let me tell you something! He won’t have it long. Everyone in Rosedale knows that he is deeply in debt. He will lose his farm, and then where will he be?”

_Chapter 8_

THE TREASURE HOUSE

Mrs. Mattox’ words distressed Hanny, who began to cry. She knew only too well that her uncle might lose his property and that she would be sent back to Holland.

“My uncle won’t lose his farm,” she denied stubbornly. “He will make a great deal of money this year. Our tulip will win the prize and we will sell our bulbs for a nice price.”

“Don’t count on it,” said Mrs. Mattox. “Your uncle will win no prize with any of the tulip varieties I have seen.”

“We have one though--” Hanny began, and then she stopped short. She realized she had been on the verge of saying too much.

“Where does your uncle grow this wonderful tulip?” Mrs. Mattox pursued the subject.

Hanny would not say. She was glad when they reached the boundary of her uncle’s land. The other Brownies were at the fence and helped to pull the water-logged boat back to its mooring place.

“Don’t you mind Mrs. Mattox,” Connie said to Hanny, slipping an arm about the little girl’s waist. “She is just an old meanie.”

“But it is true my uncle may lose this farm.”

“You will win the blue ribbon for your prize tulip.”

“I hope so,” Hanny said soberly, “but Uncle Peter says we cannot count on it. All the growers in Rosedale are trying for the prize. Many new varieties will be shown.”

“Yours will be the very best,” Connie declared confidently. “If it is the Golden Beauty I am sure it will win.”

The children hauled the leaky boat up on the grassy bank. As they overturned it, Miss Gordon hailed them from the path.

“Come to the house, girls,” she called. “Mr. Van Der Lann has invited us to have sweet cakes.”

“I’ll give you some of my _hopjes_ too,” declared Hanny.

“What are those?” Jane Tuttle asked as the group started for the house. “Something to eat?”

“Candy with a butterscotch flavor,” Hanny explained. “Good too!”

Inside the farm house, Peter had laid a fire on the hearth to take a chill from the air. Hanny, Vevi and Connie moved in close to dry their damp shoes and stockings.

As the children were telling Mr. Van Der Lann about the leaky boat, the housekeeper came in bearing steaming chocolate and _maastegles_ or sweet cakes.

While they nibbled the cakes, the grownups talked of the coming flower show. Judging of the tulips, the first event in the mammoth festival, was to come the following weekend. Mrs. Langley planned to open her estate to the public according to her usual custom. Prize flowers would be on display at her greenhouse.

“Mr. Piff keeps at me to have a part in the commercial show,” Mr. Van Der Lann said. “To participate I must pay one hundred dollars. I do not have it and have told him so. Yet he has told about Rosedale that I have refused only because I am stubborn.”

“From what I hear, many of the growers are regretting that they went into Mr. Piff’s scheme,” remarked Miss Mohr. “It is to be an elaborate affair and no doubt will bring hundreds of persons to Rosedale during show week. But some folks are saying that for all his talk, Mr. Piff is not a good manager.”

“I have heard rumors myself,” nodded Mr. Van Der Lann. “Some of the growers complain that for every dollar Mr. Piff collects, fifty cents goes into his own pocket.”

“I liked our festival so much when it was a small, quiet affair,” added Miss Gordon. “For the life of me I cannot understand why Mrs. Langley became interested in Mr. Piff’s scheme.”

The Brownies had just finished their cake when the housekeeper came in. She spoke quietly to the nurseryman.

“Mrs. Gabriel is here again,” she informed him. “It is about those bulbs she asked you to order for her.”

Mr. Van Der Lann went to the window and looked out. He could see the lady’s car on the driveway near the little office.

“Why does she keep pestering me?” he demanded. “I have told her repeatedly that I want none of her business. Tell her I will not see her!”

The Brownies could not understand why the nurseryman did not like to deal with Mrs. Gabriel. Her unexpected visit seemed to upset him.

A little later, when the children were outside again, Vevi asked Hanny why her uncle turned down Mrs. Gabriel’s order.

“I do not know,” Hanny answered with a shrug.

“Who is she anyhow?” Connie questioned. She did not know anyone in Rosedale by the name of Gabriel.

“She has been here several times,” Hanny told her friends. “Always she is nice to me and once gave me a chocolate bar. But I do not like her. Uncle Peter says she is trying to get him to do something he does not want to do.”

It was nearly time to leave now, so the children went down to the canal for their bouquets of flowers.

Sunny, Jane and Rosemary quickly gathered up their tulips and carried them back to the house. Vevi and Connie followed more slowly, stopping a moment to watch the revolving arms of the big windmill.

“Hanny,” said Vevi suddenly, “when are you going to tell us about the mystery house?”

Hanny grinned and pretended not to understand.

“You know what I mean,” Vevi said pointedly. “When are you going to tell us what you keep in that locked building?”

“Someday,” Hanny laughed.

“We may not get out here again very soon,” Vevi argued. “Next week is the flower show at Mrs. Langley’s estate.”

“And right after that the big commercial festival,” added Connie. “The Brownies will be very busy next week too. We have to make our booth and cut paper tulips to decorate the library.”

“But you will have to come again, if only to try on the wooden shoes Uncle Peter is making for you,” Hanny protested.

“We won’t be able to stay long next time,” Vevi insisted. “If you’re ever going to tell us about that locked house, now is the time to do it.”

Hanny hesitated a long while. Then she demanded:

“Can you both keep a secret?”

“Oh, yes!” said Connie.

“A Brownie’s word is as good as gold,” added Vevi. “Tell us your secret, Hanny.”

“It belongs to Uncle Peter as much as to me. You’re sure you can keep the secret if I tell you?”

“Brownie’s honor,” said Connie soberly.

“Then wait here,” directed Hanny. “I will be back in a minute.”

She ran off to the house. Vevi and Connie could not imagine what she was after. Soon she came flying back, something clutched in her hand.

She opened her fingers to show Connie and Vevi that the object was a tiny padlock key.

“Come with me,” she bade her friends. “But you must never, never tell what I am going to show you. Not until after next week at least. Then it will not matter.”

Connie and Vevi became rather excited at the thought of seeing inside the locked house. They could not guess what Hanny’s uncle kept hidden there. It made them feel very important to think that Hanny trusted them enough to let them share her secret.

“We must hurry,” Connie said, glancing anxiously toward the house. “I think Miss Gordon and Miss Mohr are about ready to start home.”

Hanny inserted the key into the padlock and pulled it open.

“You mustn’t tell anyone--not even the other Brownies,” Hanny warned.

“We promise,” Vevi said impatiently.

Hanny pushed open the door and stepped into the dark room. The other two girls followed quickly behind her.

“I can’t see a thing!” Vevi complained.

“Neither can I,” declared Connie, clinging to her friend’s arm.

“Wait! I will let in a little light,” Hanny said. “But only a little.”

The room in which the children stood was nearly square, with walls scarcely more than ten feet in length. There were no windows, only a small skylight overhead. The latter had been covered with a blanket to keep out the sunshine.

Hanny moved the covering so that a crack of light filtered down.

“There!” she exclaimed. “Now can you see?”

Vevi and Connie looked about them. The walls of the room were lined with homemade shelves on which were stored large, plump objects which were difficult to identify in the shadowy light.

“Onions!” Vevi exclaimed, finally making out their shape.

She was bitterly disappointed. For that matter, so was Connie.

“Not onions,” corrected Hanny. “Look again.”

“Tulip bulbs?” Connie asked.

“Yes,” Hanny acknowledged. “Our very best ones are kept here. The temperature is carefully controlled. Uncle Peter and I call this place our treasure house.”

Connie and Vevi were so disappointed they could not say a word.

For days they had been speculating about the mystery of the little locked house. They had convinced themselves that this room contained something very startling and wonderful. And now to learn that it was only a storeroom for bulbs!

Hanny seemed to sense how her friends felt. At any rate, she chuckled as if enjoying their astonishment.

“Now, I’ll show you the real treasure,” she promised. “Then you will understand why the secret must be kept.”

_Chapter 9_

HIGH WIND

Moving to a shelf on the north wall, Hanny pulled out a canvas bag.

“Not money?” gasped Vevi. Her interest in the locked room had revived quickly.

“This bag contains something which may be as valuable as gold,” Hanny replied. “It all depends on whether or not Uncle Peter is lucky.”

The little Dutch girl unfastened the bag and carefully emptied out some of the contents on the counter.

“More tulip bulbs!” exclaimed Vevi. “Big ones too.”

She had never seen such large bulbs. Each one was plump and perfectly formed. Even Vevi who did not know anything about flower bulbs could see that these were something very fine.

“Are these the special bulbs your uncle developed Hanny?” shrewdly guessed Connie. “Are they the blue ribbon ones?”

“They’re the bulbs Uncle Peter hopes will win the prize.”

“Why do you keep them locked up?” questioned Vevi.

“Because they will be worth their weight in gold if our tulip wins first prize,” Hanny explained. “There are no other bulbs like these anywhere in this country or abroad. Uncle Peter says they are the finest in the world! If we should lose them or if they should rot, we never could replace them.”

“Are they bulbs of the Golden Tulip?” Vevi asked.

“I cannot say,” returned Hanny. “I would like to tell, but I promised Uncle Peter not to give away the secret.”

“The Golden Tulip is the most beautiful one I have seen anywhere,” Vevi insisted. “I think these must be Golden Tulip bulbs.”

Hanny only laughed and put away the bag. Then she carefully locked the little house again.

“I wish the Brownies had a tulip bed,” said Connie after the padlock had been snapped shut. “Miss Mohr might give us a little plot of ground at the library.”

“It is too late to start a tulip bed this spring,” Hanny advised her. “Bulbs should be planted in the fall.”

“Then perhaps the Brownies can have a garden next year. Only then Rosedale may not be having a flower festival.”

“Next year, if Uncle Peter still has his nursery, I will give you hundreds of bulbs,” Hanny promised.

As the children turned away from the little house, they were startled to hear Jane calling to them from the roadway.

“Hey, hurry up!” she shouted. “We’ve been waiting nearly ten minutes! Hurry!”

Vevi and Connie hastily said goodbye to Hanny, reminding her not to forget the scheduled Brownie Scout meeting at the library. Then they ran off to join their friends who were ready to start home.

“Say, where did you girls go anyhow?” Jane demanded suspiciously as Vevi and Connie rushed up breathlessly.

“It’s a secret,” chuckled Vevi.

All the way home, the other Brownies teased her to reveal where she and Connie had been. But Vevi would not.

Not until they were alone again, did the two girls so much as mention the locked room.

Both were hopeful that Peter would win the blue ribbon and that his bag of precious bulbs truly would become a bag of treasure.

On Wednesday after school all the Brownie Scouts gathered at the public library to cut and paste tulip decorations for the windows.

“Where is Hanny?” Rosemary asked noticing that the little girl was not present. “I thought she was coming today.”

“So did I,” declared Miss Gordon. “Perhaps she will come later.”

A door banged just then and in came Hanny. She was quite breathless from hurrying.

“I am sorry to be late,” she apologized. “I did not think I could come at all. My uncle was called away and there is no one at home to look after things. Even the housekeeper is away.”

Miss Gordon said she was happy indeed that Hanny had managed to attend the meeting. She gave the little girl materials and showed her how to make paper flowers.

As the children worked with scissors and paste, Miss Mohr told them about the work of Brownies in foreign countries.

“Now who remembers the Brownie name in the Netherlands?” she asked the group.

Sunny Davidson and Connie Williams both waved their hands. Miss Mohr called on Sunny to give the answer.

“They’re called Kabouters and it means little elves.”

“Now who knows the name that is used for the organization in South Africa?” the librarian went on.

No one knew the answer so Miss Mohr told the girls that Brownies in South Africa were known as Sunbeams.

She said that in Greece they were called Poulakia or Little Birds.

Miss Gordon then told the Brownies about cut-out dolls they could obtain. She explained that the figures were dressed in Brownie uniforms of different countries in the World Association of Girl Guides and Girl Scouts.

“Now you know that tulip bulbs came to this country from Holland,” she declared. “Look about in your homes, and at our next meeting report how many objects you have noticed that have been imported from other countries.”

“Our home has almost everything from Holland,” Hanny said. “But I like best the things you buy in America. I love your big super markets too where you see so many wonderful foods.”

So that the little girl would know more about the organization she intended to join, Miss Gordon explained how the Brownies obtained their name in English speaking countries.

“The organization was named by Robert Baden-Powell, who lived in England,” she told Hanny. “He knew many wonderful stories about the brownies or ‘little people’ and thought it would be a suitable name for girls who try to be useful. The founder of the Girl Scouts in America was Mrs. Juliette Gordon Low.”

“How can I join?” Hanny asked eagerly. “I want to be a Brownie.”

“We will have the investiture ceremony as soon as you have attended four meetings,” Miss Gordon promised.

After the paper flowers had been made, the girls talked over plans for a booth at Mrs. Langley’s flower show. Miss Mohr announced that Peter Van Der Lann had promised the troop all the tulips they wanted, not only for decoration, but to sell. The mothers would help too, particularly in the making of tussie-mussie bouquets.

“I think the festival on Mrs. Langley’s estate will be very nice,” Miss Mohr told the girls. “The Brownies will wear Dutch costumes, and wooden shoes. All the money we make will be for our own organization.”

It was after four-thirty when the meeting finally came to an end. Vevi and Hanny were among the last to leave the library. Arm in arm they walked along the street together.

“I am going to like being a Brownie,” Hanny told her new friend. “Why, I hope I can attend every single meeting.”

The children were passing a drugstore window. Vevi stopped to look at a poster which advertised the coming festival. The placard did not mention the preliminary show on Mrs. Langley’s estate but told about the three-day celebration which would follow.

Vevi was reading the poster when a sudden gust of wind whipped her Brownie uniform about her knees.

At the same instant off went her brown beanie into the gutter.

“Whoops!” Vevi exclaimed, scampering after the rolling headgear.

As she snatched the beanie from the street an automobile came to a jerky halt at the curb. The strange woman Vevi knew as Mrs. Gabriel was at the wheel. She tooted her horn and glared at the little girl.

“Don’t you know better than to dash out into the street!” she scolded. “I might have run you down.”

Vevi had been a little careless. However, she never had come very close to the automobile.

“I am sorry,” she apologized. “That wind--”

Off went her beanie again, this time almost directly beneath the wheels of the stationary car. To the annoyance of Mrs. Gabriel, Vevi had to get down on her hands and knees to fish it out.

“Do watch what you are doing,” the woman said. “And hang onto that hat!”

The moment Vevi was safely on the curb, she drove away.

Hanny had been having a time with her own belongings. The capricious wind had scattered some of her school papers. For several minutes she was kept busy gathering them up.

Breathlessly the two girls huddled in the drugstore doorway. As yet there was no rain but dust was blowing wildly in the street. A newspaper flew past, plastering itself around a telephone pole.

“It’s going to blow real hard,” Vevi said, pulling her sweater tight. “Hanny, you had better come home with me.”

“I can’t,” the other replied. “O-oh!”

Vevi looked around quickly, wondering what was wrong. She thought dust had blown into Hanny’s eyes or that another paper had been swept away.

“What is it?” she asked for her little friend looked dreadfully worried.

“The windmill!” Hanny said in a frightened voice. “I left it turned on. If it pumps very long in this high wind, our tulips may be ruined!”

_Chapter 10_

IN THE HAYLOFT

The wind was blowing steadily now, whipping the trees and sending everyone to cover.

Hanny and Vevi huddled in the drugstore doorway, not knowing what to do.

“I should have locked the windmill before I left the farm,” Hanny said, clutching her hat tightly to keep it from sailing away.

“Maybe your uncle will get home and take care of it,” Vevi said hopefully.

“He has gone away for the afternoon. Oh, Vevi, I will have to get out there as fast as I can. This wind is not going to let up for a long while.”

“I will go with you,” Vevi offered. She did not really want to go. It was a long walk to the farm and the sharp wind would make the trip uncomfortable.

Nevertheless, she started off with Hanny down the street. The girls had to duck their heads and bend low. Even then it was hard to keep on their feet.

“This is a regular hurricane!” Vevi gasped. “Maybe everything is going to blow away!”

Hanny however, was not frightened. She glanced at the sky, studying the boiling clouds for a minute.

“It is only a hard wind,” she said. “But it can do much damage at our nursery. Oh, why did I forget the windmill?”

Reaching the outskirts of the city, the two girls struck out along the main highway. Soon they saw a car overtaking them.

“Here comes someone,” Vevi said, looking over her shoulder. “Maybe we can catch a ride to the farm.”

The children moved off the roadway and waited. When the car was fairly close they could see a woman at the wheel. There were no passengers.

“It looks like Mrs. Gabriel’s car,” said Hanny. “My uncle would not want me to ride with her.”

“Even to save the tulips?”

“I guess that would be different,” Hanny agreed.

Both girls waved their arms, trying to attract Mrs. Gabriel’s attention. They knew she saw them, for she slowed down.

“She is going to pick us up!” Vevi cried in relief.

But Mrs. Gabriel did not stop. She drove past the children, without paying any attention to their frantic gestures.

“Why, that was mean!” exclaimed Vevi. “She’ll be going right past the farm too!”

The girls bored on into the wind, but walking was most difficult. Vevi could not keep on her beanie. She carried it in her hand, but her hair kept whipping across her eyes.

“We’ll never get there!” she gasped. “This hateful old wind!”

A loud “toot-toot” sounded directly behind the girls. Startled, they jumped to the side of the road.

Another car had come along, driven by a man who was riding with his wife. He pulled up beside the children.

“Want a ride?” he asked.

“Do we!” demanded Vevi gratefully.

The man opened the car door, and the girls slid into the back seat.

“Going far?” he inquired.

“Only to Windmill Farm,” Hanny said. “Can you take us there?”

“Sure thing,” the man agreed. “I’m going right past the farm.”

The car rolled over a bridge. Vevi and Hanny saw that the river had been ruffled into high, foamy waves. Along each shore, the low-bent branches of willows were lashing back and forth.

A few big drops of rain spattered against the car’s windshield.

“We’ll have a downpour any minute now,” the driver said. “You children should have your raincoats.”

The car passed the Mattox nursery. On the driveway, Vevi and Hanny saw Mrs. Gabriel’s parked automobile.

“Look at the roof of the greenhouse!” Hanny cried, pointing.

A portion of the glass covering had been smashed by the wind.

“It was a little twister all right,” declared the man who had given the children a ride. “The worst is over now though, I think.”

“I hope our windmill is all right,” Hanny said anxiously. “It may have blown down.”

The car rolled over a rise, and the children were reassured to see the huge canvas-arms revolving at a furious rate.

“It’s still there,” Vevi said, greatly relieved.

“But see how fast the arms are turning,” Hanny declared. “The tulip fields will be flooded!”

At the gate to Windmill Farm, the driver stopped the car to let the children off.

“Will you be all right now?” he asked. “Or do you want me to come with you?”

“I can turn off the windmill myself,” Hanny said.

She and Vevi thanked the driver and his wife for the ride and ran through the gate.

The windmill was groaning and straining under the assault of the elements. At any moment, Vevi expected to see the canvas-covered arms ripped to shreds.

Around and around went the fan-shaped sails, pumping water at a fearful rate. The irrigation ditches were flooded and Hanny could see that some of the tulip fields were soaked.

“I must get the mill stopped first of all!” she cried.

The little Dutch girl ran to the mill and tried to open the door. The wind held it back.

“Help me, Vevi!” she cried.

Both girls tugged at the door. Vevi lost her beanie again, and this time she did not try to save it.

Suddenly the mill door flew back, banging hard. The wind was so strong it nearly wrenched off the hinges.

Once inside the mill, the girls were protected. But it was frightening to hear the wild creak of the pulleys and the heaving and groaning of the great sails overhead.

“Oh, Hanny, I’m scared,” Vevi whimpered, huddling against a wall. “This old mill is about ready to blow over.”

Hanny was not as nervous as her little friend, for she had been inside the mill before on very windy days.

Quickly, she shot levers into place, locking the mechanism.

“There, I have stopped the mill from pumping!” she exclaimed.

The girls caught their breath, looking out over the fields through the open doorway.

“This wind will snap the stems of our tulips even if the water did not ruin them,” Hanny said. “Uncle Peter will lose most of his investment.”

“The wind is dying down some now,” Vevi said. “Maybe the tulips will be all right.”

“I am especially worried about the north field,” Hanny went on. “If the prize tulip is lost, we will have nothing to enter in Mrs. Langley’s show.”

“The Golden Beauty?”

Hanny did not answer. She seemed to be thinking hard.

Suddenly, without explaining what she intended to do, she bolted out the open door of the mill.

Vevi saw the little girl run to the barn. She was inside a minute or two. Then out she came, carrying a large, empty orange crate.

“Where are you going, Hanny?” Vevi shouted across the yard.

In the high wind, Hanny could not hear. But Vevi saw her enter the north field and dart down the rows of tulips.

Hanny carefully set the crate down. Then she came flying back to rejoin Vevi in the mill.

“Our tulip is still safe!” she exclaimed. “I have covered it with the box. Now it will be protected even if the other tulips are ruined.”

Vevi had noticed the place where Hanny had set down the box.

“It was the Golden Beauty that you covered,” she said. “I am sure of it, Vevi. But I will never tell.”

The old mill was a chilly and uncomfortable place in which to stand. Hanny said that the barn, directly across the yard, was a much better shelter from which to watch the storm.

“Let’s make a run for it,” she urged. “The rain is coming.”

Together the girls dashed across the open space. Midway there, Vevi spied her lost beanie snagged against a fence post. She darted aside to rescue it. Before she could reach the barn, rain began to come down in torrents.

“Hurry! Hurry!” Hanny shouted, holding the barn door open for her.

Vevi dashed in, her Brownie uniform splashed with raindrops.

For several minutes the rain came in a great sheet. Then abruptly, it let up.

“At least we will not have hail,” Hanny declared. “That is what ruins the plants.”

Now that the excitement was nearly over, Vevi became interested in the interior of the barn. She had never seen such a clean place.

The floor was swept as neatly as a living room. Curtains were at all the windows. The stalls, where two Jersey cows contentedly chewed their cuds, did not have a speck of dust or dirt.

Vevi sniffed the air. She could smell something sweet and fragrant.

“What is that odor?” she asked.

“The haymow,” Hanny told her. “See, the ladder leads up to it.”

Vevi climbed up to look. “My, this hay looks nice and soft,” she called down.

The little girl suddenly realized that the trip from Rosedale and so much running and hurrying had made her very tired. She snuggled down into a mound of hay.

Hanny also climbed the ladder. Seeing Vevi so snug, she curled up beside her.

The hay was warm and delightful.

“I’m sleepy,” Vevi said. “I think I will take a nap. By the time I wake up, the rain will be over.”

“It is almost over now,” said Hanny.

“I think I will take a nap anyhow,” Vevi declared. “Wake me up when it stops raining.”

Now Hanny did not intend to fall asleep. After Vevi had closed her eyes, she lay very still listening to the rain on the barn roof.

The hay was sweet-smelling and as cozy as a feather bed. She felt delightfully drowsy, shut off from all the world.

Hanny thought she would close her eyes only for a moment. When she opened them, she was astonished to see that dark shadows shrouded the haymow.

Vevi was shaking her.

“M-m,” Hanny mumbled drowsily. For a moment she could not think where she was or what had happened.

Vevi pressed a hand over Hanny’s lips.

“Sh!” she warned.

By this time Hanny had come two-thirds awake. She saw Vevi sitting beside her, hay sticking in her mussed hair.

“Listen!” Vevi whispered.

The rain had ceased and Hanny no longer could hear the whistle of the wind around the corners of the barn. How long had she slept?

Hanny sat up, rubbing her eyes. Only then did she hear a strange murmuring sound from the lower floor of the barn.

“What is that?” she whispered.

“Someone is down there,” Vevi answered, very low. “When I woke up, I heard two people talking.”

“Maybe it is Peter come home.”

“I don’t think so Hanny. Besides, there are two people.”

Their curiosity aroused, the two girls crept to the edge of the hay loft. Peering down they saw a man and a woman standing in the doorway of the barn.

“It is Mrs. Mattox and her husband Joseph,” Hanny whispered. “But why are they here? They refuse me permission to walk on their property.”

Mrs. Mattox was cleaning mud from her shoes.

“We should not stand here,” her husband said. “Peter Van Der Lann may return at any moment, or his little girl.”

“Let them,” said the wife. “At any rate, it was your idea to visit his fields to see what the stubborn Dutchman is raising. Now that you have looked under the box are you satisfied?”

“The tulip is superior to anything that we can enter in the show.”

“I don’t agree,” Mrs. Mattox replied. “Our own flower the cherry-rose candy stick tulip is its equal. We will win the prize, Joseph.”

“Don’t count on it,” Mr. Mattox said gloomily.

“We won’t need to win the blue ribbon to have a profitable business. We have valuable customers. Mrs. Gabriel--”

“How many times must I ask you not to mention her name?” Mr. Mattox broke in angrily. “I wish I had never seen her--she may yet be the cause of me going to jail.”

“Jail?” his wife echoed. “Joseph, I fail to understand you. When Mrs. Gabriel first came to talk to you, why you said we would make a mint of money. Didn’t she give you a large order of bulbs to be imported from Holland?”

“Yes, and I wish she hadn’t! Don’t forget that woman went first to Peter Van Der Lann with her proposition. He must suspect what is going on. If he should turn me in we both might be jailed.”

In the hayloft, Hanny and Vevi caught nearly all of the conversation. But they did not understand why Mr. Mattox was so angry at his wife for mentioning Mrs. Gabriel’s name.

Hanny made up her mind she would tell her Uncle Peter all about it when he came home.

“The rain has stopped,” she heard Mr. Mattox say. “We can go now.”

Never guessing that anyone had listened to their talk, the couple left the barn. By the time Vevi and Hanny had slid down from the loft, they were nowhere in sight.

_Chapter 11_

THE MAN IN GRAY

When Peter Van Der Lann drove into the farm yard twenty minutes later, Hanny and Vevi ran to meet him.

“I came as fast as I could,” the farmer said. “Is everything all right?”

Finding English inadequate, Hanny spoke rapidly in Dutch, telling him everything that had happened during his absence.

Mr. Van Der Lann did not have much to say until he had inspected the tulip fields. Although the high wind and rain had flattened many of the plants, they were not as badly damaged as he had feared.

“Now that the sun is coming out again, they will straighten up,” he said. “We will have a good flower harvest, Hanny.”

The nurseryman did not scold his niece for having forgotten about the windmill. Instead, he told her that she probably had saved the tulip field by shutting off the water.

“As for Mr. and Mrs. Mattox,” he said indifferently, “give them no thought, little Hanny.”

“But Uncle Peter, they came while you were away to peep under the box!”

“It does not matter. Before this week has ended, everyone will have seen our beautiful tulip.”

“Mrs. Mattox spoke of a tulip they are entering in the show, Uncle Peter. A cherry-rose candy stripe, she called it.”

“It will not compare with our flower,” declared Mr. Van Der Lann cheerfully. “Do not worry, Hanny.”

“She spoke also of a customer, Mrs. Gabriel. And a large order of tulip bulbs from Holland.”

The nurseryman became attentive, listening closely as his niece related the entire conversation overheard in the hayloft.

“The Mattoxes are welcome to their big order,” he said. “I can tell you no more, Hanny, except to say that you are never to talk to Mrs. Gabriel or have anything to do with her.”

“But why, Uncle Peter?”

“Do not ask me questions,” he said kindly. “I cannot answer, Hanny. Mrs. Gabriel is not to be trusted. I have told her never to come here.”