call me Herr? It
does sound so formal."

"Well, isn't that the right thing?" she answered. "You only call
children by their Christian names. Don't grown-up people always call one
another Herr, or Frau, or Fraeulein?"

"Not always; you don't call Julius, Herr Julius."

"To be sure not, you silly; who is Julius? He is only my cousin."

"That's just so unfair. He's a benighted ass, who, I'll be bound,
doesn't know the colour of your eyes, or which side the dimple is, and
you treat him better than those who do--(a pause)--yes, who do--who do
quite well."

"Oh, I hate my dimple; my brothers are always worrying me about it."

"I'll stop that, but you must drop the Herr."

"No, I certainly _won't_. Do you want to be a child?"

"No, Helene, you are the child and I am the man; that I will show
you"----

And with that I started off again viciously.

"Ach, Herr Felix--no, I mean Felix, I didn't say I wouldn't."

Another diabolic spurt that made the sledge twist and quiver. She
clutched its wooden sides for safety, and cried out to the young fiend
behind:

"I never said I wouldn't, Felix; do please stop--Felix--dear Felix."

This time my heel went deep into the ice, grinding out its order to pull
up. In a moment I was round to the front, on my knees to pick up one of
the rugs that had got loose and was dragging. The footstool was half
off, and poor Helene's little feet were exposed to the biting frost.
They were just lumps of ice, and I felt very guilty, for it was all my
zig-zagging and swinging about that had done it. "Wait a minute, I know
what will warm them in no time. My fur gloves are the very thing."

And with that I popped one foot into each glove, and gave her the cord
to hold that connected both, and that was usually slung round my neck.

"Oh, that is glorious!" she said, as the heat from _my_ gloves, my heat,
passed into her veins. "You are too kind, dear Mr.... I mean, my dear
Felix. But you will want them yourself. You must take them back."

"Nonsense," I answered, as I tightened the gloves round her feet and
tucked her up with the rug that had kindly played truant.

"But I am sure you will get your fingers frost-bitten."

"Not likely; you just look out they don't set the back of your sledge on
fire."

And with that we started at a moderate pace. I was in no hurry to get
home, and in fact we had to give the rest of the party time to come up
with us.

Fancy having to sit down and prepare for t