aster buried his face in the fragrant blooms. "It is a most
wonderful sweetness," he went on. "It is wind and grass and sun, and the
souls of all the apple blossoms that are dead."

"Franz," called Fraeulein Fredrika, "you will bring them out to tea,
yes?"

As the entertainment progressed, Lynn's admiration of Iris increased.
She seemed equally at home in Miss Field's stately mansion and in the
tiny bird-house on the brink of a precipice, where everything appeared
to be made out of something else. She was in high spirits and kept them
all laughing. Yet, in spite of her merry chatter, there was an undertone
of tender wistfulness that set his heart to beating.

The Master, too, was at his best. Usually, he was reserved and quiet,
but to-night the barriers were down. He told them stories of his student
days in Germany, wonderful adventures by land and sea, and conjured up
glimpses of the kings and queens of the Old World. "Life," he sighed,
"is very strange. One begins within an hour's walk of the Imperial
Palace, where sometimes one may see the Kaiser and the Kaiserin, and one
ends--here!"

"Wherever one may be, that is the best place," said the Fraeulein. "The
dear God knows. Yet sometimes I, too, must think of mine Germany and
wish for it."

"Fredrika!" cried the Master, "are you not happy here?"

"Indeed, yes, Franz, always." Her harsh voice was softened and her
piercing eyes were misty. One saw that, however carefully hidden, there
was great love between these two.

Iris helped the Fraeulein with the dishes, in spite of her protests. "One
does not ask one's guests to help with the work," she said.

"But just suppose," answered Iris, laughing, "that one's guests have
washed dishes hundreds of times at home!"

In the parlour, meanwhile, the Master talked to Lynn. He told him of
great violinists he had heard and of famous old violins he had
seen--but there was never a word about the Cremona.

"Mine friend, the Doctor," said the Master, "do you perchance know him?"

"Yes," answered Lynn, "I have that pleasure. He's all right, isn't he?"

"So he thinks," returned the Master, missing the point of the phrase.
"In an argument, one can never convince him. He thinks it is for me to
go out on one grand tour and give many concerts and secure much fame,
but why should I go, I ask him, when I am happy here? So many people
know what should make one happy a thousand times better than the happy
one knows. Life," he said