corner, "how quickly you women jump at a conclusion! You think that because these people adopted a child who was no relation to them, and---and--have brought her up well, that ......" He was going to have enlightened his wife as to the probable double motive which composes every action, however apparently good, by showing her some of the lessons he had learnt in what he called "knowledge of human nature"--for it is a well known fact that puppies which have been blind for nine days of their life, always think they understand more of the ways of the world on the tenth day than all of their surroundings put together.--But before he could go on to prove the wickedness of the world, his young wife started forward on her seat, exclaiming: "Oh, Alick, look. A flag and a triumphal arch. They are preparing a grand reception for us."--And Degel the coachman said, looking over his shoulder at her: "Yes, Madam. I wasn't to tell you, but now you've seen it for yourself. I must drive very slowly now for fear the horses should take fright."

CHAPTER II.

At last they drove up to the assembled villagers, and Hawermann approaching the carriage said a few words of welcome that came straight from his heart, and as Alick, in spite of his knowledge of human nature, had nothing ready to say on the spur of the moment, the young lady bent forward and gave the old man her hand with a friendly smile. As she did so, she read in his face as he did in hers, truth, honesty and uprightness. Alick now shook hands in his turn. Then the schoolmaster came forward followed by the line of Äsel, and gave out the key-note of one of the "Hymns of thanksgiving for peculiar mercies." The one chosen was No. 245 in the Mecklenburg hymn-book, and was intended to be used "after a severe thunder-storm." Very wisely, however, Master Strull began at the second verse because he thought it most suited to his squire: "Lord, we praise thy might."--Bräsig now wanted to wave his flag, but Gustavus Kegel held on tight: "Will you let the string go, you young rascal!" he cried.--"We know thy dreadful wrath!" sang the schoolmaster.--"Let the string go; d'ye hear me, boy?" said Bräsig impatiently.--"Yea, in thee do we trust, nor find thee to fail," sang the schoolmaster.--"Wait till I get hold of you, boy, and I'll give you such a thrashing," cried Bräsig.--"Thy kindness how tender, how firm to the end," sang the schoolmaster.--"I say, Sir, the strings have caught in the poplar," cried Gustavus. So Bräsig pulled and tugged at the banner, and in setting it free dragged off some of the small branches and leaves round which the string was entangled. The schoolmaster sang: "Hark, the crash of the storm." Fred Triddelfitz, who had meanwhile taken possession of the dinner-bell that was kept in the passage, rang a violent alarum. Bräsig waved his banner, and all the men and women, young men and maidens, boys and girls shouted at the top of their voices: "Hurrah! Hurrah!" And David Däsel blew on his horn: "The Prussians have taken Paris, &c." so solemnly that it was enough to touch the heart of even a dog. At the last toot of the horn, at the end of the first line, the old watch-dog, which Gustavus Kegel had let loose for fun, rushed at David Däsel's legs, and at the same moment the two brown horses began to dance and snort so much, that it was lucky that Degel the coachman was prepared for something of the kind happening, and at once drove on to the front-door. Alick got out of the carriage, and then helped his young wife out. The house was as grandly decorated within as without, and Mary Möller bustled about amongst the garlands of leaves and flowers in her new red jackonet gown, with a flushed face and red arms. As soon as she had grown a little cooler amongst the flowers, she rushed back to the kitchen to see how the cook was getting on with the dinner, just as if she were an iron heater and must be put in the oven again every time she got cool. As Mrs. von Rambow crossed the threshold, Mary came forward to meet her with her red arms extended as if she were a daughter of Moloch, and placed a wreath of blush-roses on her mistress' head. Then stepping back a few paces, and kneading her arms as if she wanted to make them flash fire, she repeated the following address, which she and Bräsig had been three months in composing:

She threw open the dining-room door when she had concluded her address, and showed the table ready spread for dinner. Nothing could have been better timed, for it was long past the usual hour. Alick whispered a few words to his wife, who nodded assent, and then turning to the old bailiff with a smile, told him that he must be her guest that day, and asked him to invite the schoolmaster and the young gentleman, who was learning farming, to dine with them also; adding that she hoped the good old gentleman, who had waved the banner, would likewise give her the pleasure of his company. After that she left the room and went to thank Mary Möller for her address, and for the excellent way in which she had managed the household during their absence, and said that now that she had come home, she would herself help Mary to continue as she had begun. Mary Möller blushed so red with pleasure, that she might be said to resemble a baker's oven filled with glowing red-hot coals.

The guests soon afterwards assembled. Hawermann brought Bräsig into the dining-room with him, and introduced him to the squire and his wife as a very dear old friend of his, adding, that he had known the late squire well, and that he had always taken a warm interest in the joys and sorrows at Pümpelhagen. Then Bräsig went up to Alick, and seizing his hand whether he would or not, shook it heartily and assured him with many an emphatic nod, of his eternal friendship, saying in conclusion: "I'm delighted to see you looking so well, Sir. And as I was just saying to Charles, I hope and trust that you will follow in the footsteps of your worthy father."--He now went up to Mrs. von Rambow, and taking her hand, said: "Honoured Mrs. Lieutenant von Rambow," here he was on the point of kissing her hand, but suddenly changing his mind, went on: "No, I will not. I was always expected to kiss the Countess' hand as a sort of courtly duty; I should never be able to bring myself to do it again if I were to treat you in the same way, you look so good and kind. But remember if ever you want anyone to do you a service--my name is Zachariah Bräsig--send for me--I live a short five miles from here at Haunerwiem--and I promise that the day shall not be too hot, nor the night too dark for me to help you."

This sort of talk is either understood or misunderstood according to the character of the hearer. Bräsig, like an honest man spoke out of the fulness of his heart without fear of misconception, but Alick did not take his speech to him as it was meant. He thought it very impertinent of a man like old Bräsig to hold up any one--even his own father who had always been so good to him--as an example for him to follow, so he remained silent and displeased.--Frida, on the contrary, had the gift of reading character, and saw the real kindness of heart below the eccentricity of diction, and so laying her hand again in that of the old gentleman she made him sit beside her at table.

Fred Triddelfitz arrived soon after Hawermann. He was dressed like a young squire in a blue coat and brass buttons, that looked exactly like a child of Pomuchelskopp's best blue coat. The schoolmaster came next. He was a tall muscular man, who appeared to be better fitted by nature for hewing wood, than for thrashing children. With his round black head and seedy black clothes he resembled nothing so much as a huge nail that fate had stuck