oing to his room he asked after his godson, little
Willy. Malvine was evidently expecting this, she ran to the door and
called into the next room: "Come here, Willy--come quick--Uncle
Eynhardt is here and wants to see you." Whereupon the boy came bounding
in, and threw himself with a shout of delight upon Wilhelm's neck.
Willy was still his mother's only child. He was nearly six years old,
not very tall for his age, but a fine, handsome, thoroughly healthy
child, with firm legs, a blooming complexion, the dark eyes of his
grandmother, and long fair curls. He was charmingly dressed in a sailor
suit with a broad turned-back collar over a blue-and-white striped
jersey, long black stockings, and pretty little patent leather shoes
with silk ties. Wilhelm lifted up this young prince, kissing him, and
asked, "Well, Willy, do you remember me?" He had not seen, him for
eighteen months.

"Of course, I do, uncle, we talk about you every day," cried the child
in his clear voice. "Are you going to stay with us now?"

"Yes, that he is!" his father answered for the friend.

"How jolly! how jolly!" cried Willy, clapping his hands with glee. "And
you will teach me to ride, won't you, uncle? Papa has no time."

"But I don't know how to ride myself," returned Wilhelm with a smile.

Willy looked up disappointed. "What can you do then?"

"Be a good boy now," Malvine broke in, "and leave uncle in peace and go
back to the nursery. You shall have him again later on."

After more kisses and caresses Willy ran off, and Paul led his guest to
the room prepared for him, where at last he left him to himself.

Wilhelm had visited Paul on his estate during the preceeding summer,
but since then had only seen him in Berlin. The house on the Uhlenhorst
was new to him, and he marveled at the solid sumptuousness that met the
eye at every turn. The visitor's room was not less splendidly furnished
than the smoking and breakfast rooms he had already seen, and when he
looked about him at the great carved bedstead with its ample draperies,
the silk damask-covered chairs, the thick rugs, the marble washstand,
and the toilet table with its array of bottles and dishes of china, cut
glass, and silver, he could not help feeling almost abashed. His friend
Paul had become a very great gentleman apparently!

And so in point of fact he had. The Friesenmoor had proved itself a
very gold mine, and in the district round about they calculated that it
yielded a clea