"Then you really are going to sell your new skates if you can find a customer?"

"Well, Hans, if you ARE going to sell your skates," said Annie, quite confused, "I mean if you--well, I know somebody who would like to buy them, that's all."

"Not Janzoon Kolp?" asked Hans, flushing.

"Oh, no," she said, pouting, "he is not one of my friends."

"But you KNOW him," persisted Hans.

Annie laughed, "Yes, I know him, and it's all the worse for him that I do. Now, please, Hans, don't ever talk any more to me about Janzoon. I hate him!"

"Hate him! YOU hate anybody, Annie?"

She shook her head saucily. "Yes, and I'll hate you, too, if you persist in calling him one of my friends. You boys may like him because he caught the greased goose at the kermis last summer and climbed the pole with his great, ugly body tied up in a sack, but I don't care for such things. I've disliked him ever since I saw him try to push his little sister out of the merry-go-round at Amsterdam, and it's no secret up OUR way who killed the stork on your mother's roof. But we mustn't talk about such a bad, wicked fellow. Really, Hans, I know somebody who would be glad to buy your skates. You won't get half a price for them in Amsterdam. Please give them to me. I'll take you the money this very afternoon."