"The grass is so rich and
fresh, that the cows here give more milk than any other cows in
the whole world!"
"That's what Mother says," said Kat.
"The Holland butter and cheese are famous everywhere," went on
Father Vedder; "and we have all the good milk we want to drink,
besides. The Dutch gardens, too, are the finest in the world."
"And ours is one of the best of Dutch gardens, isn't it, Father?"
said Kit.
"It's a very good garden," said Father Vedder, proudly. "No one
can raise better onions and cabbage and carrots than I can. And
the Dutch bulbs! Our tulips and hyacinths make the whole world
bloom!"
"Holland is really the greatest country there is; isn't it?" said
Kit.
"Well, not in point of size, perhaps," Father Vedder admitted;
"but in pluck, my boy, it is! Did you know that sometimes people
call Holland the Land of Pluck?"
"I don't see why," said Kat. "I'm Dutch, but I'm afraid of lots
of things! I'm afraid of spiders and of cross geese, and of
falling into the water!"
"You're a girl, if you are Dutch," said Kit. "Boys are always
pluckier than girls; aren't they, Father?"
"Really plucky people never boast," said Father Vedder.
Kit looked the other way and dug the toe of his shoe into the
dirt. Kat snuggled up to her Father and sniffed at Kit.
"So there, Kit!" was all she said.
"There's pluck enough to go round," said Father Vedder mildly,
"and we all need it boys and girls, and men and women too. It
was pluck that made Holland, and it's pluck that keeps her from
slipping back into the sea.
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