“Oh no! we do not mind; then we shall none of us wash, and afterwards I shall show you my rabbits.” Miss Naylor, moving from foot to foot, like a bird on its perch, exclaimed: “I hope you won't regret it, not a very good meal—the girls are so impulsive—such informal invitation; we shall be very glad.” But Greta pulled softly at her sister's sleeve, and Christian, gathering her things, led the way. Harz followed in amazement; nothing of this kind had come into his life before. He kept shyly glancing at the girls; and, noting the speculative innocence in Greta's eyes, he smiled. They soon came to two great poplar-trees, which stood, like sentinels, one on either side of an unweeded gravel walk leading through lilac bushes to a house painted dull pink, with green-shuttered windows, and a roof of greenish slate. Over the door in faded crimson letters were written the words, “Villa Rubein.” “That is to the stables,” said Greta, pointing down a path, where some pigeons were sunning themselves on a wall. “Uncle Nic keeps his horses there: Countess and Cuckoo—his horses begin with C, because of Chris—they are quite beautiful. He says he could drive them to Kingdom-Come and they would not turn their hair. Bow, and say 'Good-morning' to our house!” Harz bowed. “Father said all strangers should, and I think it brings good luck.” From the doorstep she looked round at Harz, then ran into the house. A broad, thick-set man, with stiff, brushed-up hair, a short, brown, bushy beard parted at the chin, a fresh complexion, and blue glasses across a thick nose, came out, and called in a bluff voice: “Ha! my good dears, kiss me quick—prrt! How goes it then this morning? A good walk, hein?” The sound of many loud rapid kisses followed. “Ha, Fraulein, good!” He became aware of Harz's figure standing in the doorway: “Und der Herr?” Miss Naylor hurriedly explained. “Good! An artist! Kommen Sie herein, I am delight. You will breakfast? I too—yes, yes, my dears—I too breakfast with you this morning. I have the hunter's appetite.” Harz, looking at him keenly, perceived him to be of middle height and age, stout, dressed in a loose holland jacket, a very white, starched shirt, and blue silk sash; that he looked particularly clean, had an air of belonging to Society, and exhaled a really fine aroma of excellent cigars and the best hairdresser's essences. The room they entered was long and rather bare; there was a huge map on the wall, and below it a pair of globes on crooked supports, resembling two inflated frogs erect on their hind legs. In one corner was a cottage piano, close to a writing-table heaped with books and papers; this nook, sacred to Christian, was foreign to the rest of the room, which was arranged with supernatural neatness. A table was laid for breakfast, and the sun-warmed air came in through French windows.