"Wrong," cried Rolf, delighted. "How could a shake sing by the water side, Jule?"
"Oh, I supposed you meant a shake in somebody's voice, as he was riding or driving along," said Jule, to justify himself. "Now what are you laughing at?"
"Because you have made such a wrong guess. It is some one 'very different, entirely different,' Jule. It is Milton, the blind poet Milton. Now try another because you failed in this. My first"—
"No, no, I must beg for a rest. It is too much brain work for vacation. I am going now to see how Castor is after my ride this morning." And Julius dashed off to the stable.
"Oh, what a shame!" cried Rolf, "what a pity! Now there is no one to guess, and I made four splendid charades on my way home. It is too bad that you are not old enough to guess, Hunne."
"But I can guess; I am old enough," said the little fellow rather vexed.
"Well, then try this one, try hard. Stop playing with the nuts and I will crack some more for you bye and bye. Now listen:
"My first conceals from light of day
The wanderer on his final way;
My second sizzling in the pan,
Makes hungrier still the hungry man;
My whole, bedecked in trappings gay,
Goes ambling on the livelong day."
"A nutcracker," said Hunne without hesitation. Julius was his beau-ideal of all that was best, and he thought that if he imitated Jule, and answered quickly the first thing that came into his head, that was guessing.
But Rolf was angry.