“And pray, why is it especially I?” he asked with a touch of sensitiveness, for he did not greatly like his sister’s sermons. Here Susie gained a hearing, and quickly restored peace by giving her perplexed aunt the explanation to this riddle, and laughingly exchanging her cap for the wig. [Illustration: THE VICAR HASTENING TO COVER HIS BALDNESS.] This apparently unimportant occurrence was the firs cause to all following misfortunes; for Säblein went limping about for many days, and consequently could not dance at the wedding. * * * * * Aunt Rosmarin had her suspicions when she saw Susie, now swimming in bliss, now abject and mournful, or when she heard how Susie went walking in the park evening after evening, and when she herself, putting aside her dread of rheumatism, secretly followed her there, but always found Susie alone. Auntie shook her head, and said to her brother: “I believe, Vicar, our little baroness is in love.” She had hit it, but wise Auntie never thought of the baron. “We must keep our eyes on this marvellously mysterious child, for she will confess nothing to me. It is a delicate task, I know, and I myself am too old to run after her in the park every day the Lord makes. And, of course, Vicar, it is not a matter to be entrusted to the domestics; that were contrary to all dignity and order. But at the same time she must be watched, for these constant visits to the park for the last fortnight must have some good reason.” “Trust me, Auntie,” said the Vicar--“trust me; I will guard the park like a spy. Murder shall out. This is just the sort of thing that suits me.” The plans were laid with great subtlety. The Vicar looked unconcerned in Susie’s presence, and the following day at sunset he started upon his errand. He was indeed very lucky, for the Baron was really in the park. He was twice lucky, for it so happened that he entered the park from the side where it touched the woods, and where the Baron was wont to enter it. He was in the habit of leaving his horse there, and giving it to the servant to hold. The servant, finding his task decidedly dull, had to-day tied the Baron’s horse to a young birch-tree and gone about his own affairs. The Vicar looked at the elegantly-equipped noble steed from all sides, and nodding his head thoughtfully, unfastened it, saying to himself, “I’ll take it home to our stable; the owner will no doubt apply for it, and all the rest will follow. In truth, it’s a shrewd plan!” But there was an unfavourable circumstance. There seemed to be a secret understanding between the horse and his master. He most decidedly objected to being pulled along by the bridle; no amount of patting and caressing had any effect; he planted his fore-legs firmly on the ground and pulled his head back.