“It is my home,” responded Octave, eagerly.
“The great publishing house of ‘Pickel & Pickel’—do you know that, too?”
“Do I not? Since I am part of the ‘& Pickel.’ The head of the house is Fritz; and Franz, his brother, was my father.”
The professor held out his hands in cordial greeting. “Then, indeed, you are in the house of friends. Now, while the supper is made ready, tell me about the cottage the picture of which my son painted.”
CHAPTER XVI.
It was a most unexpected journey that the over-busy scientist took, on the following morning, with the young girl whose audacious appeal to him had resulted with so much success to her. That is, it would have been considered audacious by the hosts of anxious men who were always coming and going, eager to consult the professor on matters of grave importance; and obliged, many and many a time, to defer that consultation till “a more convenient occasion.” She had not only made her own “occasion,” but had not even dreamed that any formality had been necessary.
As they neared the little station at the foot of Deer Hill Mountain, Octave’s overflowing spirits found voice.
“Oh, I had such a lovely time! I never had a pleasanter visit in all my life, and I do appreciate all that you and sweet Mrs. Professor have done for me. Uncle Fritz may be able to find some way of returning some of the kindness. But, there is something you don’t know.”
More than one among the passengers in the car recognized the fine head of Professor von Holsneck, and pointed out the great man as a person to be seen once in a lifetime; but to those who beheld him and had known of his mighty intellect alone, he was to appear in a new character. He might have been the simplest traveller of them all, journeying into green pastures along with a favorite grandchild, so unpretending and joyous was he. For, great as he was,—because he was so great, it may be,—he had learned the happy secret of being true to the nature God had given him, and of tossing aside care like a useless garment, whenever he dared take time from his grave labors for a bit of rest.
Octave found him as companionable as Fritzy, and far more so than Paula would have been on such a trip. Her tongue rattled from one subject to another with humming-bird swiftness, if not with so much of grace. Professor von Holsneck found her infinitely diverting, and grew brighter and more rested as the distance lessened; but it was not till they were almost ready to leave the train that Octave treated him to a full account of her “running away,” and the puzzle she had left for her family to solve.