"I have been. Then you know the different uniforms, my boy."

"Yes; but Herr von Pranken doesn't speak to me so familiarly."

"I think we had better both keep up the familiar manner that we began
with," answered Eric, holding out his hand to the boy. Roland's hand
was cold, all his blood had rushed to his head. The boy was surprised
and taken captive in spite of himself.

"If you like," he began again, "you can have one of my puppies. Two I
mean to keep; one I shall bring up for my sister Manna; Baron von
Pranken is to have the fourth, and you may have the fifth."

His face beaming with satisfaction, Eric looked at the boy; this
pleasure in giving showed that there was something good to build upon.

"Perhaps you know that in Homer the host does honor to a guest by
bestowing some gift as a token of remembrance."

"I know nothing about Homer."

"Have none of your tutors told you anything of him?"

"All of them. They made a great talk about him, but it's stupid."

Eric led the conversation back, and asked, "Who helps you train the
dogs?"

"One who knows all about it, the huntsman Klaus, whom they call the
screamer; he will be pleased when I tell him that you knew how old the
puppies were by their whimper."

Eric nodded. A boy like this might easily be guided to knowledge, if
one could once get the lead.

Eric now asked Roland to conduct him to his father. As they were about
to leave the stable, a snow-white pony with long mane turned his head
quite round and neighed.

"That is my Puck," said Roland. He was evidently very happy in showing
the stranger all his treasures, almost like a little child who displays
a toy for the wonder of his playmate. Eric could not but praise the
beautiful creature, which looked at him with great, wild, shy eyes.

He took the boy's hand, and they went together through the large
botanical garden.

"Do you know about plants too?" asked Roland.

"No, I'm quite ignorant about them."

"So am I," said the boy, delighted; Eric's acknowledgment of an
ignorance which coincided with his own seemed to bring them nearer to
each other.

They passed over a plat where men were weeding and putting the ground
in order. A little old man, with a shy but shrewd look, was at work; he
took off his cap, and said good-morning. "Have you seen my father?"
asked Roland. "He is over there," replied the little man, pointing
toward the green-houses.

The long green-houses, constructed of pale-blue gl