ied as heartily
as usual, looked, I thought, annoyed. George Norman followed me to the
door of the room. In front of us was the ladder-like staircase leading
to the upper regions.

"What a hole of a place!" said the boy. "I don't mind quite a cottage
if it's clean and cheerful, but this place is so grim and squalid. I
can't tell you how glad I am you're not going to stay on here alone. It
really isn't fit for you."

"Well, you may be easy, as we shall only be here a few hours after you
leave."

"Yes; so much the better. I wish I could have stayed, but I _must_ be
back at Kronberg to-morrow. Lutz could have stayed and seen you back to
Seeberg, but his father won't let him. Herr von Walden is so queer once
he takes an idea in his head--and he _won't_ allow this place isn't all
right."

"But I daresay there would be nothing to hurt us! Anyway, I will write
to reassure you that we have not fallen into a nest of cut-throats or
brigands," I said laughingly.

Certainly it never occurred to me or to my friends what _would_ be the
nature of the "experience" which would stamp Silberbach indelibly on our
memory.

We must have been really very tired, for, quite contrary to our habit,
the children and I slept late the next morning, undisturbed by the
departure of our friends at the early hour arranged by them.

The sun was shining, and Silberbach, like every other place, appeared
all the better for it. But the view from the window of our room was not
encouraging. It looked out upon the village street--a rough, unkempt
sort of track--and on its other side the ground rose abruptly to some
height, but treeless and grassless. It seemed more like the remains of
a quarry of some kind, for there was nothing to be seen but stones and
broken pieces of rock.

"We must go out after our breakfast and look about us a little before
we start," I said. "But how glad I shall be to get back to that bright,
cheerful Seeberg!"

"Yes, indeed," said Nora. "I think this is the ugliest place I ever was
at in my life." And she was not inclined to like it any better when
Reggie, whom we sent down to reconnoitre, came back to report that we
must have our breakfast in our own room.

"There are a lot of rough-looking men down there, smoking and drinking
beer. You _couldn't_ eat there," said the child.

But, after all, it was to be our last meal there, and we did not
complain. The root coffee was not too unpalatable with plenty of
good milk; the