For some time this summons received no answer, but at last, breathless but blissful, the children appeared. But in what a plight! Heinrich's deep red velvet suit was soaked and sadly soiled, and his cap and long flaxen curls dripped with moisture, whilst Bess's garments were running with mud and wet, and as they both stood in the chapel hall, little pools of water guttered down beside them. [Sidenote: FRÄULEIN IS FURIOUS] Fräulein started up and screamed hysterically, and I darted forward. "My dears, how wet you are," I cried. "You must go and change at once." And without another word I hurried off both children to the nursery. It was an easy matter to put Bess into a fresh dry frock and into a clean white pinafore, but what could be done with Harry? I asked myself. He is a delicate child, and must not remain in damp clothes, so I turned to him resolutely, and asked, "Which will you do, Harry: get into one of Bess' dresses, or go to bed?" "Oh, auntie," he answered, blushing furiously, for he always calls me "auntie," although I am not his real aunt, "I would much rather go to bed than wear a girl's dress." So we were about to put him into bed when a sudden brilliant idea flashed through my brain. "My husband's dressing-gown," I murmured. In a moment, kindly Fremantle, who heard me, had fetched it. It was yards too long, but it was turned up with an army of safety-pins, and so Hals' vanity was not humiliated. At least he was clothed in male attire! And we must always remember that self-respect in a little lad is even more easily wounded than love. Five minutes later both children were dry, and clad in other costumes. "I don't think that they will be any the worse," I said to my old nurse, Milner. But as I entered the chapel hall I noticed that Fräulein looked as black as thunder. In her eyes the episode was a most disagreeable, even a disgraceful occurrence. Hals paused on the threshold for a moment and looked at me beseechingly out of his pretty, round, short-sighted eyes. "I am so sorry," I said apologetically, and felt really for a second a transitory shame, Fräulein looked so fierce and injured. "How did it happen?" I asked of Bess, by way of lifting the leaden pall of silence. "Only a rat hunt," answered that young lady, jauntily, with her mouth full of buttered toast, for she had not waited for grace, but had slipped into her seat at the head of the tea-table. "There was a rat," she continued to explain, "in the potting-shed, and Trump and Tartar smelt him out and ran after him, and Hals joined in and tumbled over. He shouldn't wear smart clothes when he comes here. Nobody wants him to. Gregson says, 'By gum, give me the varminty sort,'" and Bess laughed rather rudely, after which there was an awkward and prolonged pause. "Hals is your guest," at last I said severely; upon which Bess turned scarlet, and a second later plied Hals with seed and sponge cake at once.