f impertinence,
telling me that the fact of my having attracted the young baron was an
honour which an humble girl in my position should have been proud of--
she did, really!"

"The old cat!" said Fritz indignantly; "I should like to wring her neck
for her."

"Hush, my son," interposed Madame Dort. "Pray don't make use of such
violent expressions. The baroness, you know, is exalted in rank, and--"

"Then all the greater shame for her to act so dishonourably," he
interrupted hotly. "She ought to be--I can find no words to tell what I
would do to her, there!"

"Besides, Master Fritz," said old Lorischen, "I won't have you speak so
disrespectfully of cats, the noblest animals on earth! Look at Mouser
there, looking his indignation at you; can't you see how he feels the
reproach of your comparing him to that horrid baroness?"

This remark at once diverted the conversation, all turning in the
direction the old nurse pointed, where a little comedy was being
enacted.

Mouser--with his tail erected like a stiff bottle-brush, and every
individual hair galvanised into a perpendicular position on his back,
which was curved into the position of a bent bow with rage and
excitement, his whiskers bristling out from each side of his head and
his mouth uttering the most horrible anathemas the cat language is
capable of--was perched on the back of Madame Dort's arm-chair in the
corner; while poor Gelert, the innocent cause of all this display of
emotion on Mouser's part, was calmly surveying him and sniffing
interrogatory inquiries as to whom he had the pleasure of speaking. The
dog had not yet been formally introduced to his new cat friend, and from
the commanding position he had taken up, with his hind legs on the
hearthrug and his fore paws on the seat of the easy chair, he had
considerable advantage over pussy, should that sagacious creature think
of fleeing to another vantage-ground; although the thought of this, it
should be added, never crossed for an instant the mind of old Mouser; he
knew well when he was safe.

Fritz burst out laughing.

"Lie down, Gelert!" he cried; and the retriever at once obeyed.

"Is that the dear dog?" inquired Madame Dort, stooping to pat him.

"Yes," said Fritz, "this is Gelert, the brave, faithful fellow but for
whom I would have bled to death on the battlefield and never have been
saved by Madaleine!"

"Thanks be to God!" exclaimed the widow piously. "What a nice dog he
is!"

"H