"If I may prophesy, you will be worried a good deal," said Mrs. Decie
coldly, "before you have finished with this affair."

The anxious, uncertain glance which Herr Paul gave her at these words
roused an unwilling feeling of compunction in her.

"You are not made for the outraged father of the family," she said. "You
had better give up the attitude, Paul; it does not suit you."

Herr Paul groaned.

"I suppose it is not your fault," she added.

Just then the door was opened, and Fritz, with an air of saying the
right thing, announced:

"A gentleman of the police to see you, sir."

Herr Paul bounded.

"Keep him out!" he cried.

Mrs. Decie, covering her lips, disappeared with a rustling of silk; in
her place stood a stiff man in blue....

Thus the morning dragged itself away without any one being able to
settle to anything, except Herr Paul, who was settled in bed. As was
fitting in a house that had lost its soul, meals were neglected, even by
the dog.

About three o'clock a telegram came for Christian, containing these
words: "All right; self returns to-morrow. Treffry." After reading it
she put on her hat and went out, followed closely by Greta, who, when
she thought that she would not be sent away, ran up from behind and
pulled her by the sleeve.

"Let me come, Chris--I shall not talk."

The two girls walked on together. When they had gone some distance
Christian said:

"I'm going to get his pictures, and take charge of them!"

"Oh!" said Greta timidly.

"If you are afraid," said Christian, "you had better go back home."

"I am not afraid, Chris," said Greta meekly.

Neither girl spoke again till they had taken the path along the wall.
Over the tops of the vines the heat was dancing.

"The sun-fairies are on the vines!" murmured Greta to herself.

At the old house they stopped, and Christian, breathing quickly, pushed
the door; it was immovable.

"Look!" said Greta, "they have screwed it!" She pointed out three screws
with a rosy-tipped forefinger.

Christian stamped her foot.

"We mustn't stand here," she said; "let's sit on that bench and think."

"Yes," murmured Greta, "let us think." Dangling an end of hair, she
regarded Christian with her wide blue eyes.

"I can't make any plan," Christian cried at last, "while you stare at me
like that."

"I was thinking," said Greta humbly, "if they have screwed it up,
perhaps we shall screw it down again; there is the big screw-driver of
Fri