"By this time my companion in misery had a beautiful un-German-like apology ready for me, and proposed that we move on, and repair damages by the street lamp. I replied, in very bad German, that my boarding-place was just around the corner, and that I would prefer to remove the signs of our collision at home. He graciously acceded to my humble request, and crossed the street with me, holding the remains of my umbrella over my head. When we reached the lamp I could fully appreciate the humour of the situation. The aristocratic chest of the Count was plastered with white frosting, his hat was caved in, and his noble face was covered with spatters of mud. My skirt dripped mud and water at each step, my hands were gloved with honest German soil, and my hair fell over my face in degraded little stringlets. We both fairly reeked with kraut. But the Count, courteously oblivious to our picturesque and barbaric appearance, walked by my side, with that skeleton of an umbrella gallantly protecting the remains of my Knox hat, and discoursing cheerfully upon the vagaries of the German climate. Naturally my answers were not so teeming with wisdom as usual, for I was fairly overcome with suppressed emotion and mud. Beside, I am awfully stupid about languages, and all the German I have learned since I have been here would rattle if it were shaken about in a peanut shell. If he had asked me about the lamb of the daughter of the gardener, or the pink frock of my sister's child, I could have conversed fluently; but as it was I maintained a dignified silence and let him think that I was a modest little German Mädchen.
"His good manners lasted the whole two blocks, and he handed me in at Frau Henich's door with the air of King Cophetua, though I did think I caught a twinkle of fun in his eyes as he said 'Gute Nacht, Fräulein. Es ist immer der Amerikaner der die deutschen Länder bekommt.'
"Fräulein Henich has much to say of the gracious Herr, who came to my rescue so nobly. It seems after all that he is no count, just an American student, as she expresses it touring Germany,—'but so amiable in manner, so hard in the working, and so good to the children.' He boards across the street with her good friend Frau Heller, and I have often seen a young man, answering to his description, frolicking with the six flaxen-headed Heller cherubs. But, to me he will always be known as the Count. My introduction to him is also my farewell, for he leaves to-morrow—whither I know not—and alas, I shall see him no more! Still, he has served his purpose in furnishing me with many a recent chuckle, and material for what otherwise would have been a most stupid letter to you. Musical students never have any brains left for letters, and nothing to write about. Maybe I won't have enough things to tell you about, my dear, in six weeks and two days more!
"Lots of love from
"Peggy."
Miss Billy laid down the closely written sheets of foreign paper, and drew a long sigh of pleasure. Six weeks more!
Perhaps no one knew just what the end of the six weeks meant to Miss Billy. Even the cheeriest and happiest of us all have our dark days, and the fact that our friends do not suspect them, makes the days none the less hard to bear. Miss Billy's interest in her new surroundings, and her bravery in her changed circumstances had not prevented many a heart-ache and longing for the old life. Girls are merciless aristocrats, and many of Miss Billy's old friends had wounded her with careless speeches, or rude actions, since the old life had ended. The covert sneers, the uplifted eyebrows, the small snubs that so often crushed Beatrice in these days of stern economy, had touched Miss Billy's sensitive soul; and though she was brave enough to rise above them, they were not easy to bear.
But after Margaret came,—dear loyal Peggy, so leal and true—whom changed circumstances only made nearer and dearer,—Miss Billy felt that she could face the world and "the girls" with courage, as well as independence, and she yearned for her friend with all the strength of her young soul.
And on the heels of this joyful letter came another delightful surprise. It was an overture of peace, and the carrier dove was Aaron Levi. The olive branch he bore was a message to the effect that "ol' man Schultzsky" wanted to see Miss Billy "to wunst." "What can he want of me?" thought the girl, hurrying out of the door in a state of high excitement. "It must be that he wants something done; if that's the case, perhaps he's not so awfully mad at me, after all."
She crossed the street, and went quickly up to Mr. Schultzsky's door. The little Bohemian maid, who was rocking on the front porch, rose up uncertainly and fled around the house at her approach. Miss Billy entered without the ceremony of rapping, and made her way to the room in which she had found Mr. Schultzsky before.