"How could I say that? It would not be true."

The girl's face was so sincere, that Mrs. Gordon found herself unable to
ridicule the position. "My dear," she answered, "you are a miracle. But,
among all these pretty things, is there nothing you can send?"

Katherine looked thoughtfully around. There was a small Chinese cabinet
on a table: she went to it, and took from a drawer a bow of orange
ribbon. Holding it doubtfully in her hand, she said, "My St. Nicholas
ribbon."

"La, miss, I thought you were a Calvinist! What are you talking of the
saints for?"

"St. Nicholas is our saint, our own saint; and on his day we wear
orange. Yes, even my father then, on his silk cap, puts an orange bow.
Orange is the Dutch colour, you know, madam."

"Indeed, child, I do _not_ know; but, if so, then it is the best colour
to send to your true love."

"For the Dutch, orange always. On the great days of the kirk, my father
puts blue with it. Blue is the colour of the Dutch Calvinists."

"Make me thankful to learn so much. Then when Councillor Van Heemskirk
wears his blue and orange, he says to the world, 'I am a Dutchman and a
Calvinist'?"

"That is the truth. For the _Vaderland_ the _Moeder-Kerk_ he wears their
colours. The English, too, they will have their own colour!"