tu duet.

"Work and play
Make glad the day,"--

that seemed to be their philosophy, and Mabel and I were quite ready
to agree with them, although we had been idling since the early dawn.
But then it was so long since we had seen each other, that we thought
we could afford it.

"Somehow," said Mabel at last (for she never could pout long at a
time), "I don't like you so well since you came back from Germany. You
are not as nice as you used to be. What did you go there for, anyway?"

"Why," I responded, quite seriously, "I went there to study; and I did
learn a good deal there, although naturally I was not as industrious
as I might have been."

"I can readily believe that. But, tell me, what did you learn that you
mightn't just as well have learned at home?"

I thought it was no use in being serious any longer; so I tossed a
pebble into the water, glanced up into Mabel's face and answered
gayly:

"Well, I learned something about gnomes and pigmies and elves and
fairies and salamanders, and--"

"And what?" interrupted Mabel, impatiently.

"And salamanders," repeated I. "You know the forests and rivers and
mountains of Germany are full of all sorts of strange sprites, and you
know the people believe in them, and that is one of the things which
make life in the Old World so fascinating. But here we are too prosy
and practical and business-like, and we don't believe in anything
except what we can touch with our hands, and see with our eyes, and
sell for money."

"Now, Jamie, that is not true," responded Mabel, energetically; for
she was a strong American at heart, and it didn't take much to rouse
her. "I believe, for instance, that you know a great deal although not
as much as my father; but I can't see your learning with my eyes,
neither can I touch it with my hands--"

"But I hope I can sell it for money," interrupted I, laughing.

"No, joking aside. I don't think we are quite as bad as you would like
to make us out."

"And then you think, perhaps, that the gnomes and river-sprites would
be as apt to thrive here as in the Old World?"

"Who knows?" said Mabel, with an expression that seemed to me half
serious and half playful. "But I wish you would tell me something
about your German sprites. I am so very ignorant in such things, you
know."

I stretched myself comfortably on the edge of the shawl at Mabel's
feet, and began to tell her the story about the German peasant who
caught the gnome that