yellows--great stretches, and always with the green to rest
his eyes; with the door opened between there came to him the fragrance,
and the singing of birds, and the sound of the little stream.

He sat in a big chair, bent a little, plump and ruddy-faced, with a
fringe of white hair. He wore horn spectacles--and a velvet coat. He
rose when Emily entered, elegant of manner, in spite of his rotundity.

"So it is the lady of the elephants, Ulrich? When you telephoned I
thought it was too good to be true."

"Your son says that nothing is too good to be true," Emily told him,
sitting down in the chair that Ulrich placed for her, "but I have a
feeling that this will all vanish in a moment like Aladdin's palace--"
She waved her hands towards the shelves that went around the room. "I
never expected to see such toys again."

For there they were--the toys of Germany. The quaint Noah's arks, the
woolly dogs and the mewing cats--the moon-faced dolls.

"I don't see how you have made them all."

"Many of them were made years ago, Fraeulein, and I have kept them for
remembrance, but many of them are new. When my son told me that it was
hard for you to get toys, I gathered around me a few old friends who
learned their trade in Nuremberg. We have done much in a few days. We
will do more. We are all patriotic. We will show the Prussians that
the children of America do not lack for toys. What does the Prussian
know of play? He knows only killing and killing and killing."

The old man beat his fist upon the table, "Killing!"

"You see," Ulrich said to Emily, "there are many of us who feel that
way. Yet unthinking people cannot see that we are loyal, that our
hearts beat with the hearts of those who have English blood and French
blood and Italian blood and Dutch blood in their veins, and who have
but one country--America."

The old man had recovered himself. "We are not here to talk of
killing, but of what I and my friends shall make for you. And you are
to have lunch with us? I have planned it, and I won't take 'no,'
Fraeulein. You and I have so much to say to each other."

Emily wondered if it were really her middle-aged and prosaic self who
sat later at the table, being waited on by a very competent butler, and
deferred to by the two men as if she were a queen.

It was she and the old man who did most of the talking, but always she
was conscious of Ulrich's attentive eyes, of the weight of the quiet
words wh