The Four Corners Abroad

"No, but perhaps we shall go before it gets too cold. Aunt Helen was speaking of it only yesterday. I want so much to see the Hans Sachs house, the old streets and the Burg."

"There is really a great deal to see there, and it is a convenient point from which to go to Rothenburg, which, if anything, is even more picturesque. If you like an old mediæval town you will have it there."

"Then I hope we can go to both places. I particularly want to see Nuremburg on account of its being the scene of the Meistersinger. I love that street scene, and I hope the real thing looks just like it," replied Nan, who by this time had heard several operas.

"It is quite exact," Mrs. Hoyt told her. "Boys, stop demolishing those cushions; this is not a dormitory for a pillow fight. Do be sensible."

"We would be if we could, Mrs. Hoyt," replied Henry Olcott, whom the boys dubbed Heinz, as a German contraction of Heinrich.

"I don't see what Mr. Mann does with such a lot of animal spirits," continued Mrs. Hoyt.

"There are fifty-seven varieties," remarked Jo, "and they are all pickles."

"Not all, please, Miss Jo," said Henry prostrating himself at Jo's feet. "Thy servant is a baked bean with tomato sauce; try Heinz."

"I can vouch for the sauce," retorted Jo. "Get up, silly, I am not a heathen idol."

Just as Henry was rising to make a dignified salaam, one of the other boys gave him a push and down he went again on his knees, to the detriment of his new trousers.

"I say, this is too much rough-house," exclaimed Henry. "Mrs. Hoyt, call these fellows to order."

"Come, boys," cried Mrs. Hoyt, "you are getting too obstreperous. We shall have to sing hymns to sober you down."

In a few minutes they were all standing at the piano singing "Onward Christian Soldiers" with all the vim their youthful voices possessed, Nan accompanying. They sang for an hour, the boys coming out strong on the hymn of the St. Andrew's brotherhood, and all those with any sort of martial spirit. As a fitting close, Mrs. Hoyt selected "For all the saints who from their labors rest," since this was All Saints day.

The lads had entirely quieted down by the time this was ended, and Dick Langham, the most exuberant of them all, had actual tears in his eyes as he whispered to Mrs. Hoyt at parting, "I just wish my mother were here, Mrs Hoyt; I'd like to play baby and get in her lap. Those old hymns took me right back home."

"Come to us whenever you want to be mothered," Mrs. Hoyt responded. "I won't promise to take you on my lap, Dick, but I will do my best to cheer you up."

"Thank you, I'll come," said Dick, bending low and kissing her hand.

The boys trooped out as darkness settled down on the outer world. The electric lights showed shining reflections on the wet street. Maximilianplatz looked quiet and empty. The "honk-honk" of an automobile once in a while speeding along, and the noise of a passing tram-car alone interrupted the quiet till the bells of the Frauenkirche pealed out the angelus.

The rain continued with greater force the next day, and Jean, who had taken cold through staying too long in the cemetery, was kept at home from school. She found it rather dreary, for there were none of the accustomed pets which at home helped to beguile the hours, nor had she her favorite story-books. She was usually a patient little body and able to amuse herself, but to-day time hung heavily and she looked many times at the clock, saying mournfully, "It is such a long morning; I wish Jack would come. What can I do, mother, to pass away the time?"

At last having exhausted all her resources, Mrs. Corner was obliged to think up some new entertainment. "You can stand there by the window," she said, "and tell me what things you see that you don't see at home."

This struck Jean's fancy at once and she stationed herself where she could look up and down the street. "I see four Dienst– do you say mannen?"

"No, I think it would be Dienstmänner."

"Then I see four Dienstmänner with red caps on."

"That is one thing. Write it down. Here is a paper and pencil."

"Dienstmänner on corner," wrote Jean. "I see two soldiers not a bit like ours."

"That makes two things."

"And a man wearing a cloak, a man on a wheel, and the cloak flies out behind in the funniest way. Nobody wears cloaks at home and all the men, women and children do here." She wrote this down carefully and then looked out again.

"What do you see, Sister Anne?" asked her mother after a while.

"I didn't see anything creer for a few minutes, but now I see something: the man and the dog pulling the cart together. That will be a fine thing to write down. Now I see two of those great big horses Nan likes so much; they are pulling a long wagon piled up with beer kegs, and there's another horse harnessed to one side the pole like you were talking about the other day. That is crite different from the things they do at home. Oh, and there is an old woman with a load of wood on her back. She carries it in a sort of rack. It looks like a lot for such an old woman to carry; she is all bent over with the weight of it."

"That you would scarcely see at home."

Jean was silent for a time. "There are a great many dogs," she said after a while, "dachshunds more than any other kind; but those you see at home, though not so many. I reckon I won't put them down. Now I see something," she began after a pause. "It is the woman that turns the switch there by the car track; she has that funny hat on, and a cloak. There goes a man and a little boy and both are dressed differently from any one we see at home. The man has on a Jäger costume, and I suppose the little boy's is meant to be the same. He has black velvet trousers embroidered with green, and a little jacket. His stockings come below the knees so the knees are bare. He has a hat on with a long feather sticking up in the back, and some edelweiss at the side." She wrote this all down carefully and surveyed her work with pride. "I think that is a great deal to see," she told her mother, "and I suppose if I stayed long enough I would see crauntities of other things. I am going to take this home with me and show it to my friends." She watched for some time, but saw nothing more of unusual interest.

"Suppose we vary it a little," said her mother, seeing the amusement was beginning to lose its zest. "See how many things you know the German names of; that will be an excellent exercise, and will be an interesting way of studying."

Jean found that she knew much more than she supposed, though she did not always know how to spell the words, and soon became rather weary of looking them up in the dictionary, but she had really passed a long time at the window, and was relieved to find that very soon it would be time for Jack to come in. So she sat down to watch for her.

But Jack seemed unusually late, and Jean became actually impatient before she saw the little figure in red coat skipping across the street with her Aunt Helen, who had gone to the school for her. Jack came in with her usual impetuosity. She carried a small package, and this she thrust into Jean's hand. "It is for you," she said. "We stopped to get it, and that is why we were so late. We got it at that lovely toy shop on the Karlsplatz."

The windows of the toy shops were a never failing source of entertainment to even the older girls, for they held miracles of ingenuity in the way of toys. To Jack and Jean it seemed that such a kitchen as one window displayed, or such a wedding-party as another showed, it would be the height of bliss to possess. Jean especially admired the tiny dishes which contained make-believe articles of food of every kind and description, all so natural that it seemed hard to believe they were not good to eat. Jack liked the kitchen with its array of cooking utensils, its dust-pan and brush, and its basket of marketing which stood ready for the cook's attention.

Jean opened her package with pleased anticipation on her face, and found a pretty little doll and two of the tiny plates of make-believe food. The doll was one she had admired the last time she and Jack had stood before the shop-window. "It is a darling," she said, "and I just love the little dishes. Did you buy them yourself, Jack, with your own money? It was lovely of you, if you did."

"I bought the doll and Aunt Helen the dishes. Oh, Jean, what do you think we did? We stopped at the Kiosk on our way home and Aunt Helen bought tickets for the loveliest fairy play that we are all going to next week. It is for children and it is called 'The Princess Herzlieb'; that means the Princess Heartlove. Isn't it a lovely name?"

"It is lovely and I do hope I can go," returned Jean ecstatically. She loved fairy stories above everything.

"Of course you can go. It isn't for about ten days, and you are not really ill, you know."

"I'm sort of ill," said Jean putting on a lackadaisical expression; "mother thought I had fever last night." It would never do to have her condition underrated, of course.

"Well, you will surely be well in ten days."

Jean admitted that she might be well by that time, and after deciding to call the doll Princess Herzlieb, the two went off together to play.

"I saw that little girl again this morning," Jack remarked when they were established in a corner. "The little girl we saw yesterday in the cemetery, the poor little girl."

"Oh, and did you speak to her?"

"No, I only smiled. I am thinking, Jean, that it would be nice to do something for her at Christmas. We have always done something for somebody then, you know."

"But you don't know where she lives nor anything about her."

"No, but maybe I shall see her again. I will watch for her. I saw her this morning as I was going to school."

"What was she doing? Just walking along?"

"She was talking to the woman who turns the switch near our school."

"Then maybe the woman would know."

"I thought of that, and if we don't see the little girl again before Christmas we might ask the woman or get some one else to do it. I know Nan would."