“I? I shall be singing again to-morrow. My preserver’s potion does wonders, I assure you. Have you flowers and oak-leaves enough?”
“I should think so.”
At the last words the door opened and Bessie cautiously entered the room, walking on tiptoe as she had been told, went up to Henrica, received a kiss from her, and then asked eagerly:
“Cousin Henrica, do you know? Junker Georg, with the blue feather, is coming again to-morrow and will dine with us.”
“Junker Georg?” asked the young lady.
Maria interrupted the child’s reply, and answered in an embarrassed tone:
“Herr von Domburg, an officer who came to the city with the Englishmen, of whom I spoke to you—a German—an old acquaintance. Go and arrange the flowers with Adrian, Bessie, then I’ll come and help you.”
“Here, with Cousin Henrica,” pleaded the child.
“Yes, little elf, here; and we’ll both make the loveliest wreath you ever saw.”
The child ran out, and this time, in her delight, forgot to shut the door gently.