ts, some of
which are even clumsy; all are substantial and useful, however, and
have the big cordial spirit of fellowship so characteristic of the
German people. These glasses are decorated in large flat designs less
choice, perhaps, than are the Bohemian. The shape of the German goblets
and drinking glasses differs, too, from those made in Italy. They are
less graceful, less dainty. Instead you will find throughout Germany
tall cylindrical shafts, tankards, and steins adorned with massive
eagles or colored coats of arms; often, moreover, both the Bohemians
and the Germans use pictorial designs showing processions of soldiers,
battle scenes, or cavalry charges such as would appeal to nations whose
military life has long been one of the leading interests of their
people."

"Tell me, Mr. Cabot," inquired Giusippe eagerly, "did you ever see one
of the German puzzle cups?"

"Yes, several of them. In the British Museum there are several of the
windmill variety."

"What is a puzzle cup, Uncle Bob?" demanded Jean.

"Why, a puzzle or wager cup, as they are sometimes called, was an
ingenious invention of the Germans during their early days of
glass-making. The kind I speak of is a large inverted goblet which has
on top a small silver windmill. The wager was to set the fans
revolving, turn the glass right side up, and then fill and drain it
before the mill stopped turning. Such wagers were very popular in those
olden days and are interesting as relics of a mediaeval and far-away
period in history."

So intently had Mr. Cabot and the others been talking that they had
stopped in the center of the room and it was while they were standing
there that a party of tourists entered from the hallway. Foremost among
them was an American girl who carried in her hand a much worn Baedeker.
As her eye swept over the tapestries covering the walls her glance fell
upon Giusippe.

Instantly she started and with parted lips stepped forward; then she
paused.

"It cannot be!" Mr. Cabot heard her murmur.

At the same moment, however, Giusippe had seen her.

"The beautiful senorita!" he cried. "My lady of Venice!"

He was beside her in an instant.

"Giusippe! Giusippe!" exclaimed the girl. "Can it really be you?"

"Yes, yes, senorita! It is I. Ah, that I should see you again! What a
joy it is. Surely four or five years must have passed since first you
came to paint in Venice."

"Fully that, my little Giusippe. It is five years this Jun