“You are not made for the outraged father of the family,” she said. “You had better give up the attitude, Paul; it does not suit you.” Herr Paul groaned. “I suppose it is not your fault,” she added. Just then the door was opened, and Fritz, with an air of saying the right thing, announced: “A gentleman of the police to see you, sir.” Herr Paul bounded. “Keep him out!” he cried. Mrs. Decie, covering her lips, disappeared with a rustling of silk; in her place stood a stiff man in blue.... Thus the morning dragged itself away without any one being able to settle to anything, except Herr Paul, who was settled in bed. As was fitting in a house that had lost its soul, meals were neglected, even by the dog. About three o'clock a telegram came for Christian, containing these words: “All right; self returns to-morrow. Treffry.” After reading it she put on her hat and went out, followed closely by Greta, who, when she thought that she would not be sent away, ran up from behind and pulled her by the sleeve. “Let me come, Chris—I shall not talk.” The two girls walked on together. When they had gone some distance Christian said: “I'm going to get his pictures, and take charge of them!” “Oh!” said Greta timidly. “If you are afraid,” said Christian, “you had better go back home.” “I am not afraid, Chris,” said Greta meekly. Neither girl spoke again till they had taken the path along the wall. Over the tops of the vines the heat was dancing. “The sun-fairies are on the vines!” murmured Greta to herself. At the old house they stopped, and Christian, breathing quickly, pushed the door; it was immovable. “Look!” said Greta, “they have screwed it!” She pointed out three screws with a rosy-tipped forefinger. Christian stamped her foot. “We mustn't stand here,” she said; “let's sit on that bench and think.” “Yes,” murmured Greta, “let us think.” Dangling an end of hair, she regarded Christian with her wide blue eyes. “I can't make any plan,” Christian cried at last, “while you stare at me like that.” “I was thinking,” said Greta humbly, “if they have screwed it up, perhaps we shall screw it down again; there is the big screw-driver of Fritz.” “It would take a long time; people are always passing.” “People do not pass in the evening,” murmured Greta, “because the gate at our end is always shut.” Christian rose. “We will come this evening, just before the gate is shut.” “But, Chris, how shall we get back again?” “I don't know; I mean to have the pictures.” “It is not a high gate,” murmured Greta. After dinner the girls went to their room, Greta bearing with her the big screw-driver of Fritz. At dusk they slipped downstairs and out. They arrived at the old house, and stood, listening, in the shadow of the doorway. The only sounds were those of distant barking dogs, and of the bugles at the barracks.