and will vex you in a
thousand ways. Old aunts are only invented to torment their fellow-men.
But no matter, make your own beer and drink it all down. But I think it
must be time to go, the Express won't wait."

Linden looked at his watch, nodded, and went hastily to the house to
order the carriage.

His friend followed him thoughtfully; at length he muttered a
suppressed, "Confound it! Such a splendid young fellow to sit and suck
his paws in this hole of a peasant village! What sort of a figure will
he cut among the rich proprietors of this blessed country? I wish
his old uncle had chosen anybody on earth for his heir, only not
_him_--much as he pretends to like it. What a career he might have
made! And now he will just bury himself in this hole--confound
Niendorf! If I only had him at home in gay Frankfort--O--it is--"

A quarter of an hour later the friends were rolling towards the city in
a rather old-fashioned carriage. Behind them was the quiet little Harz
village, and before them rose the many-towered city.

They had not far to go; they reached their destination in an hour's
time, and the carriage stopped before the stately railroad station.
Silently as they had come they got the ticket and had the baggage
weighed, and Linden did not speak till they reached the platform.

"Greet Frankfort for me, Richard, and all my friends. Write to me when
you have time. See that I get my furniture and books soon, and many
thanks for your company so far."

The judge made a deprecating gesture. "I wish to Heaven I could take
you back with me, Frank," he said, in a softer tone. "You don't know
how I shall miss you. You know what a bad correspondent I am, you are
much better at writing than I, and you will have more time for it,
too--"

The whistle and the rumbling of the approaching train cut him short; in
another moment he was in a _coupe_.

"Good-bye, Frank--come nearer for a moment, old fellow--remember if you
are ever in any serious difficulty, write to me at once. If I should
not be able to help you myself--you know my sister is in good
circumstances--"

One more hand-shake, one more look into a pair of true, manly eyes, and
Frank Linden stood alone on the platform. He turned slowly away, and
walked towards his carriage. He had his foot on the step when he
bethought himself, and ordered the coachman to drive to the hotel, for
he had something to do in town.

He was so entirely under the influence of the uncomfo