“Easily enough, I should think,” observed Mr. Rosenberg, quietly; “Mr. Hamilton has often proposed lending us his horses, and all days are alike to him, I know.” Before Hamilton could answer, Madame Rosenberg exclaimed, “His horses? Not for any consideration in the world! Besides, his sledge is only for two persons and a servant, and I wish to take the boys and the Major with us.” “In that case, I think we had better take a job carriage for a day and a half.” “No use in paying for what we can have for nothing,” said Madame Rosenberg; “so if you have no objection, I shall accept the offer.” “As you please,” said her husband. “A visit to the iron-works is not exactly what I enjoy most in the world.” “Crescenz,” said Madame Rosenberg, taking no notice of this remark, “Crescenz, just put on your bonnet, and slip over to old Madame Lustig’s; ask her if she can take charge of you and Hildegarde on Monday; but she must spend the whole day here, and promise to sleep in the nursery.” Crescenz left the room, not without slightly glancing towards Hamilton, and primly pressing her lips together to repress a smile. “I don’t like Madame Lustig,” said Hildegarde, abruptly. “Why?” asked Hamilton. “Because she so evidently tries to please everybody.” “Better than evidently trying to please no one,” said her mother, sharply. “However, whether you like her or not, if she take charge of you and Crescenz on Monday, I expect you will do whatever she desires, and consider her as in my place.” Hildegarde looked up as if about to remonstrate, caught her father’s eyes, and then bent over her coffee-cup without speaking. Madame Lustig made no difficulties and many promises. She arrived the next morning, when they were all breakfasting together, at an unusually early hour, listened patiently to Madame Rosenberg’s directions about locking the house-door, and fastening the windows, and examining the stoves, and then accompanied them to the carriage with Hamilton, Hildegarde, and Crescenz. Major Stultz seemed very much inclined to remain behind, but Crescenz whispered rather loudly, “that mamma had been so kind about her _trousseau_, that he ought to visit grandpapa.” “What an artful little animal it is, after all!” thought Hamilton, “and how different from——” He looked towards Hildegarde, who, all unconscious of their plans, after having twisted a black silk scarf round her father’s neck, stood rubbing her hands, and slightly shivering in the cold morning air.