ing him back into it when he tossed out. The Bucher
children occasionally appeared on errands for his comfort. The
family nursed him more diligently than if he had been their own.

Gard came back to his senses rather rapidly. He had found himself in
his room. He was in his own bed--that German bed. Summertide was
steadily flooding in through the grateful leaves of his linden, and
brightening his confining walls. His narrow-gage American digestive
apparatus had, it appeared, finally rebelled over the broad German
fare. All his eating and drinking during the months had proven
disastrous. When he had begun to feel bad that last day, it only
needed a little champagne to bring to a head the inevitable revolt.
And so, toward the end of his year, he was physically not far from
where he had been on coming to Deutschland for the sake of its
inspiring virilities.

He had plenty of time to wonder how he had got back to Loschwitz
from the Waitress Dance. He never inquired, never learned. But
Fritzi alone knew his address. He had no recollection of anything.
He went through his pockets. His valuables were intact. His money
was all there as nearly as he could figure out, except a reasonable
amount evidently used to pay the supper bill and convey him home.
Truly those considerate servants had not acted like amateurs.

He finally remembered about Fritzi's hose. They were gone. At length
Frau Bucher said she had forgotten to tell him that a pretty young
woman came to reclaim them. He was ashamed enough. To be carried to
his room in the odor of champagne and with a girl's silk stockings
in his pocket! _He_--Gard Kirtley! Was this the low estate to which
German life had brought him?

But he soon observed that the Buchers cared nothing about all this.
Young men, as we have seen, were expected to go on larks. No one
spoke of the distressing occurrence. There was no disagreeable
testimony that he had made great trouble. No looks of reproach
attacked him. His Puritan habits had been, in fact, very curious to
the parents. They felt now that he was a youth whom they could
understand. He was true to the proper type.

It was a relief for him to know that he had not dropped in respect
before any of the household. He believed he had, on the contrary,
grown in their estimation, as had Rudi after his "experience." The
poor Herr Kirtley was considered a much abused victim of an
unfortunate sickness. Once Frau exclaimed:

"Ach Himmel! our sons