o that the milk ran over the sides; and he gulped it
down, making a horrible noise of swallowing.

"For the love of heaven, Master Ink," cried Fran von Brakel, "what are
you about?"

"Are you out of your senses?" said the baron. "Is the foul fiend after
you?"

But, regardless of those interrogations, Master Ink, taking his
mouth from the milk-jug, threw himself down bodily on the dish of
bread-and-butter; fluttered over it with his coat-tails, and, somehow,
made such play over it with his weazened legs, that he smoothed it down
all over. Then, with a louder buzzing, he made for the house-door; but
he couldn't manage to get into the house, but staggered hither and
thither as if he was drunk, banging against the windows till they
rattled and rang.

"I'll tell you what it is, my good sir!" cried the baron. "This is
pretty behaviour! Look out, or you'll come to grief before you know
where you are!" And he tried to seize Master Ink by the coat-tails; but
Master Ink always managed to elude him, deftly. Here Felix came running
out, with his father's big fly-flapper in his hand; and he gave it to
the baron, crying, "Here you are, father; knock the horrible Pepser to
death!"

The baron took the fly-flapper, and then they all set to work at Master
Ink. Felix, Christlieb, and their mother took table-napkins, and made
sweeps with them in the air, driving the tutor backwards and forwards,
here and there; whilst the baron kept letting drive at him with the
fly-flapper, which did not hit him, unfortunately, because he took good
care never to stay a moment in the same place. And wilder and wilder
grew the chase. "Summ-summ----simm-simm----trr-trr," went the tutor,
storming hither and thither; "huss-huss," went the table-napkins,
pursuing the foe; "klip-klap" fell the baron's strokes with the
flapper, thick as hail. At last the baron managed to hit the tutor's
coat-tails; he fell down with a groan. But just as the baron was going
to get a second stroke at him, he bounced up into the air, with renewed
and redoubled strength, stormed, humming and buzzing, away through the
birches, and was seen no more.

"A good job," said the baron, "that we're well rid of horrible Tutor
Ink: never shall he cross my threshold again."

"No; that he shall not!" said Frau von Brakel. "Tutors with such
objectionable manners can do nothing but mischief, when just the
contrary ought to be the case. Brags about his 'sciences,' and then
goes flop into t