pires, the
valleys and the dreamy hillsides, with their yellow scars and purple
bloom, and white cascades, like tails of grey horses swishing in the
wind.

Herr Paul held out his hand: "What can we do for you?" he said.

"I have to beg a favour," replied Harz. "I wish to paint your daughters.
I will bring the canvas here--they shall have no trouble. I would paint
them in the garden when they have nothing else to do."

Herr Paul looked at him dubiously--ever since the previous day he had
been thinking: 'Queer bird, that painter--thinks himself the devil of a
swell! Looks a determined fellow too!' Now--staring in the painter's
face--it seemed to him, on the whole, best if some one else refused this
permission.

"With all the pleasure, my dear sir," he said. "Come, let us ask these
two young ladies!" and putting down his hose, he led the way towards the
arbour, thinking: 'You'll be disappointed, my young conqueror, or I'm
mistaken.'

Miss Naylor and the girls were sitting in the shade, reading La
Fontaine's fables. Greta, with one eye on her governess, was stealthily
cutting a pig out of orange peel.

"Ah! my dear dears!" began Herr Paul, who in the presence of Miss Naylor
always paraded his English. "Here is our friend, who has a very
flattering request to make; he would paint you, yes--both together,
alfresco, in the air, in the sunshine, with the birds, the little birds!"

Greta, gazing at Harz, gushed deep pink, and furtively showed him her
pig.

Christian said: "Paint us? Oh no!"

She saw Harz looking at her, and added, slowly: "If you really wish it, I
suppose we could!" then dropped her eyes.

"Ah!" said Herr Paul raising his brows till his glasses fell from his
nose: "And what says Gretchen? Does she want to be handed up to
posterities a little peacock along with the other little birds?"

Greta, who had continued staring at the painter, said: "Of--course
--I--want--to--be."

"Prrt!" said Herr Paul, looking at Miss Naylor. The little lady indeed
opened her mouth wide, but all that came forth was a tiny squeak, as
sometimes happens when one is anxious to say something, and has not
arranged beforehand what it shall be.

The affair seemed ended; Harz heaved a sigh of satisfaction. But Herr
Paul had still a card to play.

"There is your Aunt," he said; "there are things to be considered--one
must certainly inquire--so, we shall see." Kissing Greta loudly on both
cheeks, he went towards the