ecked his
fortune by airing his wit.

When Yolanda returned, she sat at a little distance from us, pouting
beautifully. The cause of her unmistakable ill-humor, of course, was
known only to me, and was a source of wonder to Max. At the end of five
minutes, during which there had been little conversation, Max, who was
amused at Yolanda's pouting, turned to her, and said:--

"The Fates owe me a few smiles as compensation for their frowns during
the last three weeks. Won't you help them to pay me, Fraeulein?"

Her face had been averted, but when Max spoke she turned slowly and gave
him the smile he desired as if to say, "I am not pouting at you."

Her act was so childlike and her face so childishly beautiful that we
all smiled with amusement and pleasure. Yolanda saw the smiles and
turned on us, pouting though almost ready to laugh. She rose from her
chair, stamped her foot, stood irresolutely for a moment, and then
breaking into a laugh, drew her chair to our little circle--next to
Max--and sat down.

"Tante, is supper never to be served?" she asked. "I am impatient to see
the live wren pie."

"Live wren pie?" asked Max, incredulously.

"Yes. Have you never seen one?" asked Yolanda.

"Surely not," he replied.

"Ah, you have a treat in store," she exclaimed, clapping her hands
enthusiastically. "Uncle carves the pie, the wrens fly out, you open
your mouth, and the birds, being very small, fly down your throat and
save you the trouble eating them. They are trained to do it, you know."

A chorus of laughter followed this remarkable statement. Max leaned
forward, rested his elbows on his knees, looked at the ground for the
space of half a minute, and said:--

"I was mistaken in saying that I had never partaken of the dish. While
at Basel I foolishly opened my mouth, and a beautiful little bird flew
down my throat to my heart."

Frau Castleman coughed, and the burgher moved in his chair and swallowed
half a goblet of wine. Twonette laughed outright at the pretty turn Max
had made upon Yolanda, and I ridiculously tried to keep my face
expressionless. Yolanda laughed flutteringly, and the long lashes fell.

"That was prettily spoken, Sir Max," she said, smiling. "No Frenchman
could improve upon it. You are constantly surprising me."

"Are Frenchmen apt at such matters, Fraeulein?" I asked.

"I have known but few Frenchmen," she responded. "You know Burgundy and
France are natural enemies, like the cat and the d