Wampus, nodding approvingly "You fight duel with him?
Of course. It mus' be."

"I haf one goot eye left, howefer," continued Dan'l. "It vill do me
fery well. Dere iss nod much to see out here."

"I know," said Wampus. "But Herr Gabert. What happen to him?"

Again there was a pause. Then the German said slowly:

"I am nod rich; but efery year I send a leetle money to Stuttgart to
put some flowers on Herr Gabert's grave."

The chauffeur's face brightened. He got up from his chair and solemnly
shook Dan'l's hand.

"You are great musician," he announced. "You can believe it, for it is
true. An' you have shake the hand of great chauffeur. I am Wampus."

Dan'l did not answer. He had covered his good eye with his hand.

CHAPTER XVI

THE LODGING AT SPOTVILLE

"Wake up, Patsy: I smell coffee!" called Beth, and soon the two girls
were dressed and assisting Myrtle to complete her toilet. Through the
open windows came the cool, fragrant breath of morning; the sky was
beginning to blush at the coming of the sun.

"To think of our getting up at such unearthly hours!" cried Patsy
cheerfully. "But I don't mind it in the least, Beth; do you?"

"I love the daybreak," returned Beth, softly. "We've wasted the best
hours of morning abed, Patsy, these many years."

"But there's a difference," said Myrtle, earnestly. "I know the
daybreak in the city very well, for nearly all my life I have had to
rise in the dark in order to get my breakfast and be at work on time.
It is different from this, I assure you; especially in winter, when
the chill strikes through to your bones. Even in summer time the air
of the city is overheated and close, and the early mornings cheerless
and uncomfortable. Then I think it is best to stay in bed as long as
you can--if you have nothing else to do. But here, out in the open, it
seems a shame not to be up with the birds to breathe the scent of the
fields and watch the sun send his heralds ahead of him to proclaim his
coming and then climb from the bottomless pit into the sky and take
possession of it."

"Why, Myrtle!" exclaimed Patsy, wonderingly; "what a poetic notion.
How did it get into your head, little one?"

Myrtle's sweet face rivaled the sunrise for a moment. She made no
reply but only smiled pathetically.

Uncle John's knock upon the door found them ready for breakfast, which
old Dan'l had skilfully prepared in the tiny kitchen and now placed
upon a round table set out upon the