"Do you not hear?" repeated the Fraulein impatiently; "I asked if the lane is passable."
"Yes, I have walked over it," said Willibald, somewhat confused by the dictatorial questioning.
"I see that, but I have no boots like yours and cannot wade through the mire. Is it possible to pass along the hedges? Great heavens! at least answer me."
"I--I believe so. It is somewhat dry over yonder."
"Well, I shall try, then. Turn back, driver, and deliver my baggage at the post office. I will send for it. Wait, I will take that satchel with me. Hand it across."
"But the satchel is too heavy for you, Fraulein," remonstrated the driver, "and I cannot leave the horses alone."
"Well, then, this gentleman will carry it for me. It is not far to our garden. Please, mein Herr, take the satchel, the small one upon the back seat with the black leather lining. But do make haste."
The little foot stamped the ground impatiently, for the young lord stood there with open mouth. He could not comprehend how a total stranger could dispose of him so nonchalantly, nor how so young a girl could command in such a way.
At the last very ungracious words, however, he made haste to approach and take the designated satchel, which seemed the proper thing to be done.
"So," she said shortly. "You, driver, stop at the post office, and now forward into the bogs of Waldhofen!"