“It is an odd thing,” she observed, seating herself on the polished copper edge of the hearth, and carefully arranging the folds of her dress, “it is an odd thing, but nevertheless a fact, that when one watches, and wishes water to boil, it won’t boil, and as soon as one turns away it begins to bubble and sputter at once. Now, Mr. Hamilton, can you explain why this is the case?” “I don’t know,” said Hamilton, laughing, “excepting that, perhaps, as the watching of a saucepan full of water is by no means an amusing occupation, one easily gets tired, and finds that the time passes unusually slowly.” “All I can say is—that as long as I look at that water, it will not boil——” “Then pray look at me,” said Hamilton, who had seated himself upon the dresser, one foot on the ground, the other enacting the part of a pendulum, while in his hands he held a plate of little macaroni cakes, which Crescenz had just arranged; “pray look at me. German cakes are decidedly better than English—these are really delicious.” “Oh, I am so fond of those cakes,” she cried, springing towards him, “so excessively fond of them. Surely,” she added, endeavouring to reach the plate, which he laughingly held just beyond her reach, “surely you do not mean to devour them alone.” “You shall join me,” said Hamilton, “on condition that every cake with a visible piece of citron or a whole almond on it belongs to me.” “Agreed.” Her share proved small, and a playful scuffle ensued. Crescenz turned towards the window, Hildegarde looked on contemptuously. At this moment, Walburg exclaimed, “The water boils!” and they all turned towards the hearth. “How much tea shall I put into the teapot?” asked Madame Berger, appealing to Hamilton. “The more you put in the better it will be,” answered Hamilton, without moving. “Shall I put in all that is in this paper?” Hamilton nodded, and the tea was made. “Ought it not to boil a little now?” “By no means.” “Perhaps,” said Walburg, “a little piece of vanilla would improve the taste.” “On no account,” said Hamilton. “The best thing to give it a flavour is rum,” observed Madame Berger. “I forbid the rum, though I must say the idea is not bad,” said Hamilton laughing. Hildegarde put the teapot on a little tray, and left the kitchen just as her step-mother entered it.