“Herr Förster,” interrupted Mrs Dene—“Is the room ready for our friend who is coming this evening?” “Your vriendt, he is from New York?” “Ja, ja, Gnädige Frau!” said the Forester, hastily. “I haf a broader in New York. Blumenthal and Cohen, you know dem, yes?” Mrs Dene and her daughter rose and went quietly out into the porch, while the Frau Förster, with cold, round gray eyes and a tight mouth, was whispering to her frowning spouse that it was none of his business, and why get himself into trouble? Besides, Mrs Dene’s Herr Gemahl, meaning the absent colonel, would come back in a day or two; let him attend to Mr Blumenthal. Outside, under the windows, were long benches set against the house with tables before them. One was crowded with students who had come from everywhere on the foot-tours dear to Germans. Their long sticks, great bundles, tin botanizing boxes, and sketching tools lay in untidy heaps; their stone krugs were foaming with beer, and their mouths were full of black bread and cheese. Underneath the other window was the Jaeger’s table. There they sat, gossiping as usual with the Forester’s helpers, a herdsman or two, some woodcutters on their way into or out from the forest, and a pair of smart revenue officers from the Tyrol border, close by. Ruth said to the nearest Jaeger in passing: “Herr Loisl, will you play for us?” “But certainly, gracious Fraulein! Shall I bring my zither to the table under the beech tree?” “Please do!” Miss Dene was a great favorite with the big blond Jaegers. “Ja freili! will I play for the gracious Fraulein!” said Loisl, and cut slices with his hunting knife from a large white radish and ate them with black bread, shining good-humor from the tip of the black-cock feather on his old green felt hat to his bare, bronzed knees and his hobnailed shoes. At the table under the beech trees were two more great fellows in gray and green. They rose promptly and were moving away; Mrs Dene begged them to remain, and they sat down again, diffidently, but with dignity. “Herr Sepp,” said Ruth, smiling a little mischievously, “how is this? Herr Federl shot a stag of eight this morning, and I hear that yesterday you missed a Reh-bock!” Sepp reddened, and laughed. “Only wait, gracious Fraulein, next week it is my turn on the Red Peak.” “Ach, ja! Sepp knows the springs where the deer drink,” said Federl. “And you never took us there!” cried Ruth, reproachfully. “I would give anything to see the deer come and drink at sundown.” Sepp felt his good breeding under challenge. “If the gracious Frau permits,” with a gentlemanly bow to Mrs Dene, “and the ladies care to come—but the way is hard—” “You couldn’t go, dearest,” murmured Ruth to her mother, “but when papa comes back—” “Your father will be delighted to take you wherever there is a probability of breaking both your necks, my dear,” said Mrs Dene. “Griffin!” said Ruth, giving her hand a loving little squeeze under the table.