"He asks many questions," said Mr. von Greusen, "but I do not think that his heart is in the vineyard, as the heart of a man must be if he wishes to make his wine world-famous. In your work, that is where your heart must be, my children," he added, looking solemnly at the boys. "And where do you think that the heart of Mr. John Smith is?" Papa asked, with a twinkle in his blue eyes. "Ah!" said Mr. von Greusen, shaking his head, "that know I not. The heart of a young man who brings himself to Australia and whose feet tread the vineyard while his eyes look far away, so that he repeatedly trips over obstacles--where is it?" He shook his head again and hummed in a melodious baritone: "Mdchen mit dem rothen Mndchen Mit den uglein sss und klar." "Aha!" laughed the professor, "I have seen more than one young man come to Australia to cure _that_ disease. But I don't recommend the vineyard." "I also not. Mr. John Smith should squat," said Mr. von Greusen. Mollie laughed so suddenly that she choked, and brought a look of disapproval upon herself from her hostess. "You may go, children. Mr. von Greusen wishes to hear you play, Prudence. Wait in the drawing-room till we come." "Why did you go and laugh?" Hugh asked Mollie, as they trooped off to the drawing-room and thence to the balcony to enjoy the cool breeze which had sprung up. "I wanted to hear more about Mr. John Smith. I don't understand German. Do you? Why did Papa laugh?" "I don't know much German, but I think _Mdchen_ means girl," Mollie answered. "I couldn't help laughing. Squatting sounds such a funny cure for being in love." She giggled again. "_Girl_!" Hugh exclaimed."_Girl_! I didn't think he was _that_ sort of an idiot! He talked quite all right to me. No wonder Papa laughed. It's much funnier than squatting, I can tell you. There's nothing to laugh at in being a squatter. They're as rich as What's-his-name. Some of them are millionaires. I wish Papa was a squatter--but he would be no use on a sheep-run; you've got to be in the saddle all day, and keep your eyes skinned for blackfellows half the night. John Smith looked the very chap for it. _Girl_!" "You needn't go on saying _girl_ in that voice," said Grizzel. "It isn't the girl who is tumbling about with loverishness; it's Mr. Smith." "What happened to the diamond-mine?" Mollie interrupted, feeling that another squabble was in the air. "Did you make a fortune, and is this house it?" "Oh no--this house belongs to the Bertram Fitzherberts; they are fruit-farmers. They have gone home for a trip, and they told Papa to come here for the holidays, if he liked. Mr. von Greusen looks after the farm for them. His vineyard begins a little farther up the hill. The diamond-mine hasn't begun to pay yet, but it soon will." "Do you like--is Mr. von Greusen a nice man?" Mollie asked hesitatingly; it felt a little queer to be such friends with the late (or the future, Mollie was a trifle mixed) enemy.