"That was a kindly speech," exclaimed Ilse. "But we are not lonely here; and we do interest ourselves about our countrymen, and about the great world. When the neighboring proprietors come to visit, not a word is said about the farm, and amusing subjects are talked of. Then there is our dear Pastor, who tells us about things in foreign parts, and reads the newspapers that are taken by my father with us. And when there are applications in them for contributions to serve a good object, the children are liberal, and each gives his mite from his savings, but our father gives abundantly. And Hans, as the eldest, collects, and has the right to pack up the money, and in the accompanying letter he sets down the initial of the name of each that has contributed. Then afterwards there comes a printed receipt, when each looks for his own initial. Often a wrong one has been printed, and this vexes the children." From the distance they heard the cries and laughter of the children, who were returning with the Doctor from their excursion. The girl rose, the Professor approached her, and said with much feeling: "Whenever my thoughts revert to this day, it will be with a feeling of heartfelt gratitude for the manner in which you have so honestly spoken of your happy life to a stranger." Ilse looked at him with innocent confidence. "You are not a stranger to me; for I saw you at the child's grave." The joyous troop surrounded them both, and they proceeded further into the valley. It was evening when they returned to the house where the proprietor was already awaiting them. After supper the elders passed another hour together. The strangers gave an account of their tour, and told the last news from the world; and then there was conversation on politics, and Ilse rejoiced that her father and the strangers agreed so well on the subject. When the cuckoo on the house dock proclaimed that it was ten, they separated with a friendly good-night. The housemaid lighted the strangers to their bedroom. Ilse sat on a chair with her hands folded on her lap, looking silently before her. After a short time the proprietor came from his room and took the bedroom candle from the table. "What! Still up, Ilse? How do the strangers please you?" "Very much, father," said the maiden, gently. "They are not such simpletons as they look," said the host, pacing to and fro. "What he said of the great fire was right," he repeated, "and that about our little governments was also right. The younger would have made a good schoolmaster; and as for the tall one, by heaven it is a shame that he has not worn jack-boots these four years; he would be a clever inspector. Good-night, Ilse." "Good-night, father." The daughter rose and followed her father to the door. "Do the strangers remain here to-morrow, father?" "Hum," said the host, meditating. "They will remain for dinner at all events; I will show them over the farm. See that you have something nice for dinner."