was
such a stiff, quiet gentleman that they could not enjoy his visits. It
was, however, this man who always decided what was to be done with them.
For the present they were to remain where they were till Salo had
finished his studies. After that the choice where to settle was left to
them.

"But I know what I shall do first of all," Salo added with sparkling
eyes.

Just then the old castle came in view.

"Oh, what a wonderful castle with great towers!" Salo exclaimed. "It is
all closed up; there can't be anybody living there. It doesn't seem to
be in ruins, though. What is it called?"

"This is Castle Wildenstein," the boy's companion curtly answered,
throwing a searching glance at the young Baron. The latter looked
innocently up at the gray towers, remarking that anybody who owned a
castle like that would simply be the happiest man in the world.

"He knows nothing about the castle of his ancestors and the whole tragic
story. So much the better," said Uncle Philip to himself.

When the carriage drove up before Mrs. Maxa's door, everything was very
quiet there, for the children were still in school. Kathy came running
towards them with astonished eyes. She did not know at all what was
going on, and that was a novelty for her.

Salo had the reins pressed into his hands before he knew it. With a
bound his new friend had jumped to the ground and called back, "If you
don't move, the horses will stay quiet, too." Quickly opening the
carriage, he lifted Leonore out and carried her up to the little room
which had been got ready for her. Mrs. Maxa followed at his heels. He
then turned hurriedly back to his young substitute, for he felt a little
uneasy at the thought of what might happen to the horses and carriage.
The boy might want to drive about and the horses might begin to jump.
But no; stiff and immovable, the boy sat at his post, firmly holding the
reins.

Even now when a party of eight feet came running towards him, Salo did
not move. The calls of "Uncle Philip, Uncle Philip!" sounded with more
vigor than usual, because the children had not expected him back so soon,
and therefore had to celebrate his coming with double energy. Uncle
Philip was immediately surrounded, and eight arms held him so tight that
there was no use in struggling.

"Just look at my young nobleman up there," he said, vainly trying to get
free. "He certainly knows what it means to remain firmly at his post and
do his duty. If he had not h