ht break the spell.

Miss Naylor, who had gone into the house, came back, saying:

"There is a strange man standing over there by the corner of the house."

"Really!" asked Mrs. Decie; "what does he want?"

Miss Naylor reddened. "I did not ask him. I--don't--know--whether he
is quite respectable. His coat is buttoned very close, and he--doesn't
seem--to have a--collar."

"Go and see what he wants, dear child," Mrs. Decie said to Greta.

"I don't know--I really do not know--" began Miss Naylor; "he has
very--high--boots," but Greta was already on her way, with hands clasped
behind her, and demure eyes taking in the stranger's figure.

"Please?" she said, when she was close to him.

The stranger took his cap off with a jerk.

"This house has no bells," he said in a nasal voice; "it has a tendency
to discourage one."

"Yes," said Greta gravely, "there is a bell, but it does not ring now,
because my uncle is so ill."

"I am very sorry to hear that. I don't know the people here, but I am
very sorry to hear that.

"I would be glad to speak a few words to your sister, if it is your
sister that I want."

And the stranger's face grew very red.

"Is it," said Greta, "that you are a friend of Herr Harz? If you are a
friend of his, you will please come and have some tea, and while you are
having tea I will look for Chris."

Perspiration bedewed the stranger's forehead.

"Tea? Excuse me! I don't drink tea."

"There is also coffee," Greta said.

The stranger's progress towards the arbour was so slow that Greta
arrived considerably before him.

"It is a friend of Herr Harz," she whispered; "he will drink coffee. I
am going to find Chris."

"Greta!" gasped Miss Naylor.

Mrs. Decie put up her hand.

"Ah!" she said, "if it is so, we must be very nice to him for
Christian's sake."

Miss Naylor's face grew soft.

"Ah, yes!" she said; "of course."

"Bah!" muttered Herr Paul, "that recommences.'

"Paul!" murmured Mrs. Decie, "you lack the elements of wisdom."

Herr Paul glared at the approaching stranger.

Mrs. Decie had risen, and smilingly held out her hand.

"We are so glad to know you; you are an artist too, perhaps? I take
a great interest in art, and especially in that school which Mr. Harz
represents."

The stranger smiled.

"He is the genuine article, ma'am," he said. "He represents no school,
he is one of that kind whose corpses make schools."

"Ah!" murmured Mrs. Decie, "you are an America