'_Armes Kind_, proceed with the story.'

Well, the Professor, who had suffered much in the hood between Arkona
and Wiek, and was more irritated by his disappointment on getting to
Wiek than seemed consistent with the supposed serenity of the truly
wise, was telling me for the tenth time that if I had brought him on at
once from Glowe as he begged me to do we would not only have escaped the
Harvey-Brownes but would have caught his Charlotte by now, seeing that
she had not left Wiek for Hiddensee till eight o'clock of this Saturday
we had now got to, and I was drooping more and more under these
reproaches when, with the suddenness of inspiration, the beautiful plan
flooded my dejected brain with such a cheerful light that I lifted my
head and laughed in the Professor's face.

'Now pray tell me,' he exclaimed, stopping short in his strides about
the room, 'what thou seest to laugh at in my present condition?'

'Nothing in your present condition. It's the glories of your future one
that made me laugh.'

'Surely that is not a subject on which one laughs. Nor will I discuss it
with a woman. Nor is this the place or the moment. I refer thee'--and he
swept round his arm as though to sweep me altogether out of sight,--'I
refer thee to thy pastor.'

'Dearest Professor, don't be so dreadfully cross. The future state I was
thinking of isn't further off than to-morrow. Sometimes there's a
cunning about a woman's wit that you great artists in profundity don't
possess. You can't, of course, because you are so busy being wise on a
large scale. But it's quite useful to have some cunning when you have to
work out petty schemes. And I tell you solemnly that at this moment I am
full of it.'

He stopped again in his striding. The good landlady and her one
handmaiden were laying the table for supper. Mrs. Harvey-Browne had gone
upstairs to put on those evening robes in which, it appeared, she had
nightly astonished the ignorant tourists of Ruegen. Brosy had not been
seen at all since our arrival.

'What thou art full of is nothing but poking of fun at me, I fear,' said
the Professor; but his kind old face began to smooth out a little.

'I'm not. I'm only full of artfulness, and anxious to put it all at your
disposal. But you mustn't be quite so cross. Pray, am I no longer then
your little and dear cousin?'

'When thou art good, yes.'

'Whom to pat is pleasant?'

'Yes, yes, it is pleasant, but if unreasonableness develops----'