in Berlin. It was the details of this
festival which he and Fritz had been plotting in the back room at the
restaurant, and they were both in a state of agreeable agitation at
the thought of the tremendous success which would, no doubt, result
from their combined efforts. It was decided that Ilka, whom by various
pretexts Mr. Hahn had managed to detain in Berlin through the whole
winter, should appear in a highly fantastic costume as Germania, and
sing "Die Wacht am Rhein" and "Heil dir im Siegeskranz," as a greeting
to the returning warriors. If the weather proved favorable, the garden
was to be brilliantly illuminated, and the likenesses of King Wilhelm,
Bismarck, and von Moltke were to appear in gas-jets, each surmounting
a triumphal arch, which was to be erected in front of the stage and at
the two entrances to the garden.

"As regards that Tyrolese wench," said Fritz, as he lighted a fresh
cigar, "are you sure we can persuade her to don the Germania costume?
She seems to have some pretty crooked notions on some points, and the
old woman, you know, is as balky as a stage horse."

"Leave that to me, Fritzchen, leave that to me," replied the father,
confidently. "I know how to manage the women. Thirty years' practice,
my dear--thirty years' practice goes for more in such matters than a
stripling like you can imagine."

This remark, for some reason, seemed to irritate Mr. Fritz
exceedingly. He thrust his hands deeply into his pockets, and began to
stalk up and down the floor with a sullen, discontented air.

"Aha! you old fox," he muttered to himself, "you have been hunting on
my preserves. But I'll catch you in your own trap, as sure as my name
is Fritz."

"The sly young rascal!" thought Mr. Hahn; "you have been sniffing in
your father's cupboard, have you?"

"Fritz, my dear," he said aloud, stretching himself with a long,
hypocritical yawn, "it is ridiculous for two fellows like you and me
to wear masks in each other's presence. We don't care a straw for the
whole _Sieges_ business, do we, Fritz, except for the dollars and
cents of it? I am deucedly sleepy, and I am going to bed."

"And so am I, father dear," responded Fritz, with a sudden outburst of
affection. "Yes, yes, father," he continued heartily, "you and I
understand each other. I am a chip of the old block, I am--he, he!"

And with the most effusive cordiality this affectionate parent and son
separated, with the avowed purpose of seeking oblivion