"As you please; it is your affair, Mrs. Ehrenreich; but you must let me observe that if you do not look out, you will have another case on your hands, as bad as your husband's, if not worse. Good-morning madam," and he vanished. "Doctor, doctor! what do you mean? What did you say?" cried Aunt Ninette in her most plaintive tone, running down the stairs to overtake him. "I mean that the little person up there has quite too little good blood in her veins, and that she cannot last long, unless she gets more and better nourishment." "For heaven's sake! What unfortunate people we are!" cried Mrs. Ehrenreich, wringing her hands in distress, as she came back into her husband's room. "My dearest Titus, just lay down your pen for one moment. You did not hear the dreadful things the doctor said would happen to Dora, if she did not have more and better blood?" "Oh, take her with us to Switzerland. She never makes any noise," and Uncle Titus went on with his writing. "My dearest Titus, how can you decide such a thing in one second? To be sure she never makes any noise, and that is the most important thing. But there are so many other things to consider, and arrange for, and think over! Oh dear! Oh dear me!" But Uncle Titus was again absorbed in his work, and paid not the slightest heed to his wife's lamentations. So, seeing that she could expect no help from him, she went into her own room, thought everything over carefully again and again, and at last decided that it was best to follow the doctor's advice, and take Dora with them. In a day or two the expected letter came from Hamburg. It was very short. The old uncle knew nothing about his brother's residence in Switzerland, now thirty years back. Tannenburg was certainly quiet enough, for his brother had always complained of the want of society there, and that was all he knew about it. But this was satisfactory so far, and Aunt Ninette decided at once to write to the clergyman at Tannenburg for farther particulars. Solitude and quiet! this was just what Uncle Titus needed. This second letter brought an immediate answer which confirmed her hopes. "Tannenburg is a small place, with scattered houses," wrote the clergyman. "There is just such a dwelling as you describe, now ready for lodgers. It is occupied by the widow of the school-teacher, an elderly and very worthy woman, who has two good-sized rooms and a little bed-room which she will be glad to let." And the widow's address was added, in case Mrs. Ehrenreich should wish farther information.