“Woman!” he roared at his wife, “why did you let that child go away? It is your fault if she comes home to us no more.” Every one knew that it was Peter Hildesmuller’s fault, so they paid no attention to his words. A moment afterward a strange, faint voice was heard to call: “Mamma!” Frau Hildesmuller at first thought it was Lena’s spirit calling, and then she rushed to the rear of Fritz’s covered wagon, and, with a loud shriek of joy, caught up Lena herself, covering her pale little face with kisses and smothering her with hugs. Lena’s eyes were heavy with the deep slumber of exhaustion, but she smiled and lay close to the one she had longed to see. There among the mail sacks, covered in a nest of strange blankets and comforters, she had lain asleep until wakened by the voices around her. Fritz stared at her with eyes that bulged behind his spectacles. “Gott in Himmel!” he shouted. “How did you get in that wagon? Am I going crazy as well as to be murdered and hanged by robbers this day?” “You brought her to us, Fritz,” cried Frau Hildesmuller. “How can we ever thank you enough?” “Tell mamma how you came in Fritz’s wagon,” said Frau Hildesmuller. “I don’t know,” said Lena. “But I know how I got away from the hotel. The Prince brought me.” “By the Emperor’s crown!” shouted Fritz, “we are all going crazy.” “I always knew he would come,” said Lena, sitting down on her bundle of bedclothes on the sidewalk. “Last night he came with his armed knights and captured the ogre’s castle. They broke the dishes and kicked down the doors. They pitched Mr. Maloney into a barrel of rain water and threw flour all over Mrs. Maloney. The workmen in the hotel jumped out of the windows and ran into the woods when the knights began firing their guns. They wakened me up and I peeped down the stair. And then the Prince came up and wrapped me in the bedclothes and carried me out. He was so tall and strong and fine. His face was as rough as a scrubbing brush, and he talked soft and kind and smelled of schnapps. He took me on his horse before him and we rode away among the knights. He held me close and I went to sleep that way, and didn’t wake up till I got home.” “Rubbish!” cried Fritz Bergmann. “Fairy tales! How did you come from the quarries to my wagon?” “The Prince brought me,” said Lena, confidently. And to this day the good people of Fredericksburg haven’t been able to make her give any other explanation. XIX THE REFORMATION OF CALLIOPE Calliope Catesby was in his humours again. Ennui was upon him. This goodly promontory, the earth—particularly that portion of it known as Quicksand—was to him no more than a pestilent congregation of vapours. Overtaken by the megrims, the philosopher may seek relief in soliloquy; my lady find solace in tears; the flaccid Easterner scold at the millinery bills of his women folk. Such recourse was insufficient to the denizens of Quicksand. Calliope, especially, was wont to express his ennui according to his lights.