“princess, to you the western breeze

bears many a ship and heavy laden;

what is the best we send in these?

a free and frank young yankee maiden.”

"cologne, germany.

"dear miss billikins:

"prepare to clap your hands and chortle with joy! in six weeks and two days more i shall be at home with you! perhaps i am a trifle conceited to think that you will be as delighted over the prospect as i am.

"even my grief at leaving my beloved germany is drowned in joy at the thought of being home again; and when i see papa and mamma's dear faces i shall be the happiest girl this side of the atlantic. after all, there is no place like america, and no people like the americans.

"in proof of which, i can a tale unfold—a tale, miss billy, which will make your blood-189- stand on end and your hair run cold in your veins. i have had an adventure that brought the tears of shame and contrition to my eyes, and which will bring the tears of sympathy to yours. get out your largest and most absorbent handkerchief and prepare to listen.

"it rained yesterday,—not one of the mild english drizzles, but a regular american downpour that lasted all day. about four o'clock i put my music aside and went downstairs, with the intention of taking a stroll, or more literally, a swim. frau henich held up her hands in holy horror at the sight of my costume, which was a combination of bathing suit and bicycle skirt.

"will the bold fr?ulein venture out in such wetness?

"the bold fr?ulein would.

"did she not fear the dampness?

"the fr?ulein adored dampness.

"was there no message that could be sent?

"the fr?ulein had no message. she was going out for her pleasure.

"frau henich looked at me in pity and amazement. generally she considers me erratic, but on occasions of this sort she knows i am unbalanced. as i closed the door i could feel that she was still wondering in which-190- branch of my family insanity was rampant. now there is a certain tiny store in cologne which i intend to buy out some day. it is a most fascinating place, with the windows full of gay knit garters, and hideous pictures of the saints, and dried herrings, and with funny little reward-of-merit-cards and work-boxes tucked away in dark corners.

"of course none of these things are exactly in my line, but the mistress of the house sells a delicious little german cake that is my especial delight. whenever my music lessons go badly or i fail to get a letter from home, i comfort myself with a bag of these little 'pfeffernes.'

"on this rainy day the shop was even more inviting than usual. it was brightly lighted with three candles, a big pussy cat was purring on the mat, and there was an odour of hot gingerbread in the air. my long walk had made me hungry, and i recklessly ordered two dozen cakes, a square of the frosted gingerbread, and a little pail of sauerkraut which tasted and smelled very german indeed. it was dark outside, so i didn't stay to practise my german on the rosy-faced woman behind the counter, but took my bundles hurriedly. i paddled out, leaving a long stream of green water in my wake—(the colour in my green-191- umbrella has 'run' as you predicted)—and faced the storm.

"the long narrow street was deserted, and i sprinted along making good time, though my feet were soaking wet and i could feel the water gurgle in my shoes at every step. as i started across a muddy street within two blocks of frau henich's, a sudden gust of wind blew my umbrella inside out. i righted it by facing about and holding it against the wind. then clutching my bundles a little tighter, and still treading determinedly backwards, i bumped forcibly into a man who was coming towards me. the result was what might have been expected. we sat down in the street. the gingerbread went into his lap, the cakes fell about me like stars from a rocket, and from what i could see in the dusk the kraut seemed to be equally divided between us. we both sat perfectly still for a moment. then six feet of masculinity arose from the mud, with the sound of a suction pump, and approached me, with the air of a count. 'are you hurt, fr?ulein?' he inquired, in irreproachable german that made me green with envy. i felt of myself in the cleanest places and decided that i was not. he helped me up with difficulty, for the mud had a strong attraction for me, too, and i feebly began to-192- collect my thoughts, and my cakes, and to look about for my umbrella.

"by this time my companion in misery had a beautiful un-german-like apology ready for me, and proposed that we move on, and repair damages by the street lamp. i replied, in very bad german, that my boarding-place was just around the corner, and that i would prefer to remove the signs of our collision at home. he graciously acceded to my humble request, and crossed the street with me, holding the remains of my umbrella over my head. when we reached the lamp i could fully appreciate the humour of the situation. the aristocratic chest of the count was plastered with white frosting, his hat was caved in, and his noble face was covered with spatters of mud. my skirt dripped mud and water at each step, my hands were gloved with honest german soil, and my hair fell over my face in degraded little stringlets. we both fairly reeked with kraut. but the count, courteously oblivious to our picturesque and barbaric appearance, walked by my side, with that skeleton of an umbrella gallantly protecting the remains of my knox hat, and discoursing cheerfully upon the vagaries of the german climate. naturally my answers were not so teeming with wisdom as usual, for i was fairly overcome with-193- suppressed emotion and mud. beside, i am awfully stupid about languages, and all the german i have learned since i have been here would rattle if it were shaken about in a peanut shell. if he had asked me about the lamb of the daughter of the gardener, or the pink frock of my sister's child, i could have conversed fluently; but as it was i maintained a dignified silence and let him think that i was a modest little german m?dchen.

"his good manners lasted the whole two blocks, and he handed me in at frau henich's door with the air of king cophetua, though i did think i caught a twinkle of fun in his eyes as he said 'gute nacht, fr?ulein. es ist immer der amerikaner der die deutschen l?nder bekommt.'

"fr?ulein henich has much to say of the gracious herr, who came to my rescue so nobly. it seems after all that he is no count, just an american student, as she expresses it touring germany,—'but so amiable in manner, so hard in the working, and so good to the children.' he boards across the street with her good friend frau heller, and i have often seen a young man, answering to his description, frolicking with the six flaxen-headed heller cherubs. but, to me he will always be known as the count. my introduction to him-194- is also my farewell, for he leaves to-morrow—whither i know not—and alas, i shall see him no more! still, he has served his purpose in furnishing me with many a recent chuckle, and material for what otherwise would have been a most stupid letter to you. musical students never have any brains left for letters, and nothing to write about. maybe i won't have enough things to tell you about, my dear, in six weeks and two days more!

"lots of love from

"peggy."

miss billy laid down the closely written sheets of foreign paper, and drew a long sigh of pleasure. six weeks more!

perhaps no one knew just what the end of the six weeks meant to miss billy. even the cheeriest and happiest of us all have our dark days, and the fact that our friends do not suspect them, makes the days none the less hard to bear. miss billy's interest in her new surroundings, and her bravery in her changed circumstances had not prevented many a heart-ache and longing for the old life. girls are merciless aristocrats, and-195- many of miss billy's old friends had wounded her with careless speeches, or rude actions, since the old life had ended. the covert sneers, the uplifted eyebrows, the small snubs that so often crushed beatrice in these days of stern economy, had touched miss billy's sensitive soul; and though she was brave enough to rise above them, they were not easy to bear.

but after margaret came,—dear loyal peggy, so leal and true—whom changed circumstances only made nearer and dearer,—miss billy felt that she could face the world and "the girls" with courage, as well as independence, and she yearned for her friend with all the strength of her young soul.

and on the heels of this joyful letter came another delightful surprise. it was an overture of peace, and the carrier dove was aaron levi. the olive branch he bore was a message to the effect that "ol' man schultzsky" wanted to see miss billy "to wunst." "what can he want of me?" thought the girl, hurrying out of the door in a state of high excite-196-ment. "it must be that he wants something done; if that's the case, perhaps he's not so awfully mad at me, after all."

she crossed the street, and went quickly up to mr. schultzsky's door. the little bohemian maid, who was rocking on the front porch, rose up uncertainly and fled around the house at her approach. miss billy entered without the ceremony of rapping, and made her way to the room in which she had found mr. schultzsky before.

in appearance it was the same dark mildewed room of two weeks before, with the harness on the wall, and the picture of the beautiful woman hanging crookedly near the ceiling. in the half gloom she saw the old man still stretched on the hard bed with the weight of flatirons attached to his foot. his face in its gauntness and pallor showed the suffering he had endured; but the sunken eyes were bright, and he displayed his eagerness in the gesture with which he motioned her to the chair by his side.

-197-

"i vant you to write a letter," he began in a weak voice. "it comes to me in the night if i haf no one to do for me i vill not soon get vell. johanna is a child. she can speak not the english; she can order not the food. she can do nothing but rock herself in the chair and cry. open the drawer in the table, and take the paper and ink. it is to my niece's oldest child—the letter."

not without trembling, because of her proximity to the strange old man, miss billy obeyed.

"i am ready, mr. schultzsky," she announced.

the old man fell to pondering.

"to frances lindsay, my niece's child," he began at last. "i am in much trouble that my leg is broke and i cannot mofe. it is such warm weather, and such pain, i cannot get well unless you come by me.

"i will pay it when you come, which you should do right away.

"your affectionate uncle,

"abraham schultzsky."

-198-

"is that all?" asked miss billy, as the dictation ceased.

"yes," said the old man wearily. "the street number is on a piece of paper in the drawer. that's right." he closed his eyes, but turned slightly as miss billy rose to go, and held out his hand. "you are a smart girl," he said. "i thank you for what you haf done for me."

miss billy gave his hand a little squeeze in her excitement. "i've been so sorry, mr. schultzsky," she said softly. "can you ever, ever forgive me?"

"it is nodding," responded mr. schultzsky shortly. "goot-day."

miss billy, thus dismissed, sped home as one whose feet were shod with wings.

"all is forgiven,

blest be my soul,"

she hummed to herself as she made her way to the mail box. "i'm as happy as a lark. margaret's coming home, and mr. schultzsky has-199- forgiven me. it's too much good luck for one day." she smiled happily as she dropped into the box the letter addressed to

"miss frances lindsay,

"886 east forty-fifth street,

"new york."