She took his arm hesitatingly; for now, when the fright had passed, she felt the painfulness of her situation, and was alas! conscience-smitten. For early in the day she had thought the travelling toilet of the Doctor, as she saw him return home, unendurable; but Fritz was not a man who could long be considered unendurable. He was now full of tender feelings and care for her, endeavored to spare her every roughness on the road, stretching out his foot in going along to put the little stones out of the way. He began an indifferent conversation about her godmother, which obliged her to talk, and brought other thoughts into her head. It happened besides, that he himself highly esteemed the lady in question. Indeed, she had once, when he was a schoolboy, given him a cherry-cake and he had in return composed a poem on her birthday. At the word poem Laura was astounded. In that house, too! Could they write poetry? But then the Doctor spoke very slightingly of the elevating creations of happier hours, and when she asked him: "Have you really written poetry?" He answered, laughingly, "Only for home use, like every one." Then she felt much depressed by his cold disregard of the muse. There certainly was a difference between one style of verse and another; at Hahn's they only wrote about cherry-cakes. But immediately afterwards she blamed herself for her unbecoming thoughts towards her benefactor. So she turned in a friendly way to him and spoke of the pleasure she had found just before in watching the squirrels of the wood. She had once bought one of a boy in the streets and had set it free, and the little animal had twice sprung from the trees upon her shoulders; and she had at last run away with tears in her eyes, that it might remain in the woods. Now, when she saw a squirrel, it always appeared as if it belonged to her; and she undoubtedly deceived herself; but the squirrels seemed to be of the same opinion with regard to her. This story led to the remarkable discovery that the Doctor had had a similar experience with a small owl, and he imitated the way in which the owl nodded its head when he brought in its food; and in doing so his spectacles looked so much like owl's eyes that Laura could not help laughing. Conversing in this way they arrived at her godmother's house. Fritz relinquished Laura's arm and wished to take his leave. She remained standing on the threshold with her hand on the latch and said, in an embarrassed tone: "Will you not come in, at least for a moment, as you know my godmother?" "With pleasure," replied the Doctor. Her godmother was sitting in her summer cottage, which was somewhat smaller, damper, and less pleasant than her lodging in the town. When the children of the hostile houses entered together--first Laura, still pale and solemn, behind her the Doctor with an equally serious countenance--the good lady was so astonished that she sat staring on the sofa and could only bring out the words: