"My dear pa, good morrow! The dogs cause great sorrow, They are not delightful; Their bark is just frightful; Their ardor and sanguinity Disturb the vicinity. For the sake of our neighborhood, Be noble, generous and good." Hummel laughed so heartily that the work in the factory stopped, and every one was amazed at his good humor. Then he marked the note with the date of its reception, put it in his pocket-book, and after examining the letters that had arrived, he betook himself into the garden. He saw his little daughter sprinkling the beds with her watering-pot, and his heart swelled with a father's pride. With what grace she turned and bent, and how her dark locks hung round the blooming face, and how actively she raised and swung the watering-pot; and, on perceiving him, when she put it down and held her finger threateningly at him, he was quite enchanted. "Verses again," he called out to her, "I have received Number Nine." "And you will be my good papa," cried Laura, hastening toward him and stroking his chin; "do send them away." "But, my child," said the father, composedly. "I have already spoken to your mother about it, and I have already explained to her why I cannot dispose of them. Now, I cannot do to please you, what I have refused your mother; that would be contrary to all family regulations. Respect your mother, little girl." "You are a hard-hearted father," replied the daughter, pouting; "and more than that, you are unjust in this affair." "Oh, oh!" cried the father, "is that the way you approach me?" "What harm does the ringing of bells over there do to us? The little summer-house is pretty, and when we sit in the garden in the evening, and there is a breeze, and the bells tinkle gently, it sounds just lovely--it is like Mozart's _Magic Flute_." "Our street is not an opera-house," the father retorted sharply, "but a public thoroughfare; and when my pet dogs bark you can equally well pursue your theatrical ideas, and imagine that you are in the Wolf's Den, in the _Freischuetz_." "No, my father," answered the daughter, eagerly, "you are unjust towards these people; for you wish to spite them, and that vexes me to my heart's core. It is not worthy of my father." "Yet you must bear it," he replied, doggedly, "for this is a quarrel between men. Police regulations settle such affairs, and your verses are altogether out of place. As regards the names, it is possible that other words like Adolar, Ingomar, and Marquis Posa, might sound better to you women-folk. But this is no reason for me; my names are practical. In the matter of flowers and books, I will do much to please you but in the matter of dogs I cannot take poetry into consideration." So saying, he turned his back upon his daughter, to avoid protracting the dispute. Laura, however, hastened to her mother's room, and the ladies took counsel together.