not be parted. I'll buy the old
estate of Lichtenstahl and you shall be its master, as you ought to
be, as long as your life lasts. You'll let us be your guests,
perhaps, and there we'll all be happy. Eh?"

"I beg you to consider the happiness of our children," Mrs. Vanderlyn
said humbly.

Herr Kreutzer smiled. Conditions, now, were different indeed. No
longer was he scorned as a poor flute-player, unworthy to become
connected with the house of Vanderlyn by marriage.

"Ah," said he, "you beg of me! Well, that is different. Your
happiness, my little Anna ... so ... I will see. Only give me just a
little time to think of it alone."

"Of course," said Mrs. Vanderlyn, with a deep sigh of relief. "Come,
Anna darling, we must get home in time to dress for the reception. My
dear Count, I'll send the motor back for you. You'll surely come?"

"Perhaps I come," said he indifferently. "Possibly."

But he turned to Anna with a beaming face on which love shone,
triumphant. "At least, my Anna, it is not goodbye--and that is very
good. _Nichtwahr_?"

"No, father; it could never be goodbye with us. Together always,
father--always--always--us--together."

She ran to him and hid her head upon his breast.

A moment later and the girl had been borne off by Mrs. Vanderlyn in
triumph. John gave his hand to Kreutzer and the aged flute-player
pressed it, smiling at him with approval.

As his future son-in-law went out the old man stood and gazed long at
the open door. Upon his face there were the lines of happiness, not
worry, as there had been for so many years, not bitter grief as there
had been that day.

There came a clatter on the stairs which broke the reverie which held
him, and he stepped forward to the door, peering out into the hall to
see the cause of the unusual noise. An officer approached, and,
tightly gripped by her right arm, he held M'riar.

"Say," said he gruffly. "You Mr. Krootzer? Wot? Yes? Well, this kid
comes to the station-house and hollers that she's stole a ring and
somebody that ain't had anything to do with it is gettin' pinched fer
stealin' it. The kid acts plumb bug-house, but Sarge he says fer me to
come around and see wot's up. Wot is she, dippy? Did she re'ly steal a
di'mond? This don't look like wot you'd call a likely place to find a
di'mond."

"No," said Herr Kreutzer, after he had had sufficient time to sense
the meaning of the officer's strange statement, "she did not steal a
diamond, or a