There was an instant change of the social atmosphere, a buzz of eager
talk. The old men and the old women drew near. Then came shy, but eager,
questions. Hans, Fritz, Anna were in New York. Could Leighton give any
news of them? Each had his little pathetically confident cry for news of
son or daughter, and Leighton's personal acquaintance, as an American,
was taken to range from Toronto to Buenos Aires.

Leighton treated them like children; laughed at them, and then described
gravely in simple words the distances of the New World, the size and the
turmoil of its cities.

"Your children are young and strong," he added, noting their wistful
eyes; "they can stand it. But you--you old folks--are much better off
here."

"And yet," said an old woman, with longing in her pale eyes, "I have
stood many things."

Leighton turned to Lewis.

"All old, eh?" he repeated. "Young ones all gone. Do you remember what I
said about this being the best-regulated state on earth?"

Lewis nodded.

"Well," continued Leighton, "a perfectly regulated state is a fine
thing, a great thing for humanity. It has only one fault: nobody wants
to live in it."

Two days later they reached Heidelberg and, on the day following,
climbed the mountain to the Koenigstuhl. They stood on the top of the
tower and gazed on such a sight as Lewis had never seen. Here were no
endless sands and thorn-trees, no lonely reaches, no tropic glare. All
was river and wooded glade, harvest and harvesters, spires above knotted
groups of houses, castle, and hovel. Here and there and everywhere,
still spirals of smoke hung above the abodes of men. It was like a
vision of peace and plenty from the Bible.

Lewis was surprised to find that his father was not looking at the
scene. Leighton was bending over such a dial as no other spot on earth
could boast. Its radiating spokes of varying lengths pointed to a
hundred places, almost within the range of sight--names famous in song
and story, in peace and in war. Leighton read them out, name after name.
He glanced at Lewis's puzzled face.

"They mean nothing to you?" he asked.

Lewis shook his head.

"So you're not quite educated, after all," said Leighton.

They descended almost at a run to the gardens behind the Schloss. As
they reached them a long string of carriages drove up from the town.
They were full of tourists, many of whom wore the enameled flag of the
United States in their buttonholes. Some of the women car