"Frau Kaselitz does not pretend to sit at table with us, nor to join our family circle," said Arno. "That would be insufferable," the Freiherr said, reflectively. "Then let us have recourse to the school." "Don't say another word about that cursed school," growled the Freiherr; "let us have the governess and be done with it!" Arno would have made some further objection, but his father cut it short by declaring that not a word more should be said upon the subject until Celia was by; the girl was old enough to have an opinion concerning her own affairs. To this decision the Finanzrath assented, rather unwillingly, to be sure, since he would have preferred to have the matter settled on the instant. He saw, however, that his father was coming round, and he feared to injure his cause by any insistance. And Celia herself prevented the possibility of continuing the conversation in her absence. A shower of syringa blossoms suddenly rained down upon the Finanzrath, who was seated near the open door leading to the garden, and a charming young girl appeared upon the threshold. It was Celia,--the will-o'-the-wisp, as her father loved to call her,--who always appeared when least expected. With a merry laugh she flew to the Finanzrath, sealing her flower-greeting with a light kiss upon his cheek, and then turning to the old Baron, she threw her arms around his neck. "You are a dear, darling old papa!" she cried, gayly. "You will not let your Celia be sent to school like a little child; you will not let me be disposed of without consulting me! Thank you, my own dear papa; but as for you, Werner, I shall not forget that you would have banished me from Hohenwald." The Finanzrath shook off the syringa blossoms, and, leaning back in his chair, contemplated his sister with increasing satisfaction. He had not seen her for nearly a year; he had not been at Hohenwald since the Freiherr's last birthday, and during this time Celia had changed wonderfully. He had left a child, he found a maiden; the tall, lithe figure had gained a certain roundness and grace. Celia was developed physically far beyond her years; mentally, she was still the gay, careless child; the happy spirit of childhood laughed in her large brown eyes, was mirrored in the bright smile that lit up her lovely features, and in the gay defiance with which, after having fairly smothered her father with kisses, she confronted the Finanzrath with folded arms. "Well, my sage brother," she said, laughing, "here I am, in my own proper person, prepared to listen to your highly valuable advice with regard to my future training." "Have you been listening, Celia?" the Finanzrath asked.