not satisfied with the dairy either: the new housekeeper does not know
how to manage the maids; she is too smart by half--ribbons before and
behind. Things used to go on better; the baron used to come and look at
the butter-casks, now he is busy with other things; and when the master
grows careless, servants soon snap their fingers at the bailiff. You can
be sharp enough with people; it's a thousand pities you are not a
gentleman."

"You are right; it is a thousand pities," said Lenore, approvingly; "but
there's no help for it. However, I will see to the butter from this very
day. How is corn now? You have been buying some lately?"

"Yes," said the old man, dejectedly, "my master would have it so. I
don't know what's come to him: he sold the whole granary full to that
Ehrenthal in winter."

Lenore listened sympathizingly, with her hands behind her.

"Do not fret about it, my old friend," said she; "whenever papa is not
at home, I will go about the fields with you, and you shall smoke your
pipe all the same. How do you like the new one I brought you?"

"It has a beautiful color already," said the bailiff, chuckling, and
drawing it out of his pocket. "But to return to the black horse; the
baron will be very angry when he hears of it, and we could not help it
either."

"Well, then," said Lenore, "if it could not be helped, it must be
endured. Good-night. Go back now to the horse."

"I will, dear young lady; and good-night to you too," said the bailiff.

The baroness had remained in the conservatory, thinking of her husband,
who formerly would have been by her side on an evening like this. Yes,
there was a change in him: kind and affectionate toward her as ever, he
was often absent and preoccupied, and more easily irritated by trifles;
his cheerfulness was of a more boisterous character, and his love for
men's society increasing; and she mournfully asked herself whether it
were the fading of her youth that accounted for this.

"Is not my father yet returned?" asked Lenore, as she entered.

"No, my child, he has much to do in town; perhaps he will not be back
till to-morrow morning."

"I do not like papa being so much away," said Lenore; "it is long since
he has read aloud to us in the evening, as he used to do."

"He means you to be my reader," said her mother, with a smile; "so take
your book, and sit down quietly by me, you impetuous child."

Lenore pouted, and instead of taking up the book, threw her arms r