“He is making a fool of her. Now, Crescenz, if you are not blind, you can see that expression of his face I have so often described to you.” “I only see he is laughing, and pulling the lace of her handkerchief, which she has just shown him. I dare say he is admiring it, for it is real cambric, and very fine.” “He is not admiring it; his own is ten times finer.” “Indeed! I have never remarked that; how very odd that you should!” “Not at all odd,” said Hildegarde quickly; “everyone has some sort of fancy. You like bracelets and rings, and I like fine pocket handkerchiefs.” “Well, that is the oddest fancy,” said Crescenz, “the very last thing I should have thought of. I don’t care at all for pocket handkerchiefs.” “Nor I for rings or bracelets,” replied Hildegarde. “Come here, girls,” cried Madame Rosenberg; “what are you doing with your two heads together there? Come and help me to make tea. Hildegarde, there is boiling water in the kitchen. Crescenz, you can cut bread and butter, or arrange the cakes.” Tea was then a beverage only coming into fashion in Germany, and, in that class of society where it was still seldom made, the infusion caused considerable commotion. Hildegarde and her step-mother were unsuccessful in their attempt; the tea tasted strongly of smoke and boiled milk. Everybody sipped it, and wondered what was the matter, while Madame Rosenberg assured her guests that she had twice made “a tea,” and that it had been excellent; the cook, Walburg, or, as she was called familiarly, Wally, must have spoiled it by hurrying the boiling of the water. Mr. Hamilton, as an Englishman, would, of course, know how to make tea; he really must be so good as to accompany her to the kitchen, and they would make it over again. Hamilton agreed to the proposition with some reluctance, for he had found his companion amusing; but, as she proposed accompanying him, he was soon disposed to think tea-making in a kitchen as amusing as it was new to him. Madame Rosenberg, Hildegarde, Crescenz, and Major Stultz followed, forming a sort of procession in the corridor, and greatly crowding the small but remarkably neat kitchen where they assembled. If it had not been for the stone floor, it was as comfortable a room as any in the house; the innumerable brightly shining brass and copper pans and pots, pudding and pie models, forming the ornaments. Round the hearth, or rather what is in England called a hot-hearth—for the fire was invisible—they all stood to watch the boiling of a pan full of fresh water, which had been placed on one of the apertures made for that purpose. They looked at the water, and then at each other, and then again at the water; and then Wally shoved more wood underneath. Still the water boiled not; and Madame Rosenberg and Major Stultz returned to the drawing-room, Madame Berger having undertaken, with Hamilton’s assistance, to make the most excellent tea possible.