came down and asked where they came from, and
where they were going in that "old fish-box."

Fani told the whole story without reserve. An expression of amusement
passed over the captain's brown face more than once during this
narration, and when he had heard all, he said kindly that they must get
themselves dried off as best they could; he was going to stop at
Cologne, and there they could take the train home again.

To reward him for saving them, Mrs. Stanhope could invite him to visit
her house at the next vintage.

This was their second visit to Cologne; how different it was from the
first one!

The captain's parting advice was that they should in future make their
expeditions by land rather than by water; it was much safer, he said.

It was pretty dark by this time, and they had some trouble in finding
the way to the station. They wandered from street to street inquiring
their way, and at last found themselves again at the steamboat wharf,
just where they had landed. They began to fear that they should lose the
train and have to stay in the city all night. They set out again upon
their search, and at last they came upon a policeman, who took pity upon
them and led them through alleys and by-streets to the station, where
they found that one train had just left, and they must wait two hours
for the next. The little wanderers sat down outside the building to
wait. They were wet and cold and hungry, but they did not complain of
these minor troubles; their anxieties lay far deeper.

"I am dreadfully worried," said Fani, with a deep sigh.

"So am I, but I don't know exactly why," replied Emma.

"Well, I do," said the boy. "I'm perfectly sure that Mrs. Stanhope will
send me home after this, and poor Elsli will have to go too, for she
could never stay without me."

"Oh, that is dreadful!" cried Emma. She was conscience-stricken. It was
a bad scrape, and it was mainly her fault. "Mrs. Stanhope is so kind,"
she went on hopefully, "perhaps she will not be so very angry."

Fani shook his head.

"You don't know about it, Emma. Of course Mrs. Stanhope is the greatest
benefactress in the world. But she is very particular about our minding
exactly what she tells us; and one of her principal rules is that we
must never disturb the regularity of the household, and must keep
punctually to just such hours; and now see what we have done! We shall
not get home till twelve o'clock to-night, midnight! Probably they are
hunti