ts up-hill.

"Vick," say I, gravely, "how would you like to drag a little cart to the
wash?"

Vick does not answer verbally, but she stretches her small neck over the
carriage-side, and gives a disdainful yet inquisitive _smell_ at her low
brethren. No words could express a fuller contempt for a dog that earns
his own living.

The driver is taking his horses along very easily, but we do not care to
hurry him. I have not felt so happy, so at ease, so gay, since I was
wed.

"This _is_ nice," say I, making a frantic snatch at a long acacia-droop;
"_how_ I wish they were _all_ here!"

Sir Roger laughs a little, and raises his eyebrows slightly.

"Do you mean _with us_--_now_--_in the carriage_? Should not we be
rather a tight fit?"

"Rather," say I, laughing too. "We should be puzzled how to pack them
all, should not we? We would be like the animals in a Noah's ark."

A little pause.

"General," say I, impulsively, "it has just occurred to me, are not you
sometimes deadly, _deadly_ tired of hearing about the boys? I am sure I
should be, if I were you. Confess! I will try not to be any angrier with
you than I can help; but do not you sometimes wish that Algy and Bobby,
and the Brat--not to speak of Tou Tou--were drowned in the Red Sea, or
in the horse-pond, at home?"

"At least you gave me fair warning," he says, with a smile. "Do you
remember telling me that whoever married you would have to marry all
six?"

"I wish you would not remind me of that," say I, reddening.

It was quite the broadest hint any one ever gave. The evening is
deepening. We have reached Weisserhoisch. Now our faces are turned
homeward again. As we pass the entrance to the Gardens of the Linnisches
Bad, we see the lamps springing into light, and the people gayly yet
quietly trooping in, while on the soft evening air comes the swell of
merry music.

"Stop! stop!" cry I, springing up, excitedly. "Let us go in. I _love_ a
band! It is almost as good as a circus. May we, general? Do you mind?
Would it bore you?"

Five minutes more, and we are sitting at a little round table, each with
a tall green glass of Mai-Trank before us, and a brisk Uhlanenritt in
our ears. I look round with a pleasant sense of dissipation. The still,
green trees; the cluster of oval lamps, like great bright ostrich-eggs;
the countless little tables like our own; the happy social groups; the
waiters running madly about with bif-tecks; the great-lidded goblets of
amb