h the open window on the morning breeze.

"And that too, is that the work of the young gentleman, who will soon
return to college?" asked Mrs. Ehrenreich excitedly. "It is unendurable;
continually some new noise or tumult or uproar. What do you say to this
last, Mrs. Kurd?"

"I never have thought of it as noise," said the good woman simply, "the
dear child is making such progress with her music, it is a pleasure to
hear her."

"And Dora, where can Dora be? Is she bewitched too? It is time for her to
begin her sewing; where can she be? Dora! Dora! Have you gone into the
garden again?"

Aunt Ninette's voice was querulous and excited. To be sure, Dora had crept
down again to peer through her opening in the hedge, and she was now
listening as if enchanted, to Lili's gay music. She came back at once at
the sound of her aunt's voice, and took her appointed place at the window
where she was to sit and sew all day.

"Well, we cannot stay here, that is certain," said Mrs. Ehrenreich as she
left the room.

The tears started to Dora's eyes at these words. She did so long to remain
here, where she could hear and partly see now and then, the merry healthy
life of these children in the beautiful garden beyond the hedge. It was
her only knowledge of true child-life. As she sewed, she was planning and
puzzling her brain with plans for prolonging their stay, but could think
of nothing that seemed likely to be of use.

It was now eleven o'clock. Rolf came scampering home from his recitations,
and catching sight of his mother through the open door of the kitchen, he
ran to her, calling out before he reached the threshold, "Mamma, mamma,
now guess. My first--"

"My dear Rolf" interrupted his mother, "I beg of you to find some one else
to guess. I have not time now, truly. Go find Paula, she has just gone
into the sitting-room."

Rolf obeyed.

"Paula," he called out, "My first--"

"No, Rolf, please, not just now, I am looking for my blank-book to write
my French translation in. There is Miss Hanenwinkel, she is good at
guessing, ask her."

"Miss Hanenwinkel," cried poor Rolf, pouncing upon her, "My first--"

"Not a moment, not a second, Rolf," said the governess hastily. "There is
Mr. Julius over there in the corner, letting the little one crack nuts
for him. He is not busy; I am. Good-bye, I'll see you again."

Miss Hanenwinkel had been in England, and had taken a great fancy to this
form of expression much in vogue there