tairs,
disappointed, taking Jenny with her.

Von Barwig put on his little velvet house coat. "What have you for
lunch, boys?" he asked. "I am a bit hungry."

"I thought so," said Pinac, quickly jumping up and opening the cupboard
which housed their slender stock of provisions. "Some sausage, some
loaf, some cold potato," he said, as he surveyed the contents of the
shelf on which reposed the articles mentioned.

"Good; splendid!" said Von Barwig.

Fico laid the cloth while Poons set the knives and forks.

"And here's a 'arf bottle of wine," said Pinac.

"The same wine as yesterday?" asked Von Barwig.

"The very same wine," replied Pinac, handing him the bottle.

The old man pulled out the cork and smelled the contents of the bottle.
"It _was_ wine; it _is_ vinegar," he remarked tersely as he handed
Pinac back the bottle. "I prefer coffee!"

Pinac rushed to get it. Poons put on a few coals and some more wood
into the little stove, and the process of coffee-making began.

"There's nothing like hot coffee to cheer you up on a cold day," said
Von Barwig, rubbing his hands. "Not that I need cheering up, boys," he
added quickly; "but hot coffee, the smell alone is enough
to--to--whoever invented hot coffee was a genius! The chord of the
ninth and the diminished seventh were ordinary discoveries; any
musician was bound to stumble across them sooner or later. But this,"
and he poured the ground coffee into the pot, "is a positive invention
of genius!"

Pinac noticed that Von Barwig was thinking of something else than what
he was saying, for his eyes were glistening, and he was obviously
labouring under some great excitement.

"We could have waited for you, Anton, but we were cold," said Pinac.
"And hungry," added Fico.

"You were right; quite right!" said Von Barwig.

"Whose wedding did you attend, Anton?" asked Pinac.

"A pupil's wedding," answered Von Barwig quickly; as if he expected the
question and was prepared to answer it. "Gott in Himmel, it's cold!
Ha, of course," and he looked up; "that skylight isn't mended! Dear
Miss Husted, she always forgets it. I must fix it myself. Yes," he
went on thoughtfully, "a pupil of mine was married; a young lady. She
is very happy, very happy; and I am happy that she is happy--I must
always remember that."

"Remember what?" inquired Fico after a pause.

"Always remember that this is a happy moment and that I must live on
it. This moment is my future; i