“You don’t know what trouble has come of it.”
“Perhaps I was; that remains to be proved. I do know everything, and fail to see any trouble, so don’t cry, little girl,” briskly replied the inexplicable major, “Well, we had a merry time planning our prank. One of the lads insisted on playing courier, though I objected. He’d done it before, liked the part, and would have his way. The other couldn’t decide, being younger and more in love; so we left him to come into the comedy when he was ready. Karl did capitally, as you will allow; and I am much attached to him, for in all respects he has been true to his word. He began at Coblentz; the other, after doing the mysterious at Heidelberg, appeared as an exile, and made quick work with the prejudices of my well-beloved nieces—hey, Amy?”
“Go on; who are they?” cried both girls, breathlessly.
“Wait a bit; I’m not bound to expose the poor fellows to your scorn and anger. No; if you are going to be high and haughty, to forget their love, refuse to forgive their frolic, and rend their hearts with reproaches, better let them remain unknown.”
“No, no; we will forget and forgive, only speak!” was the command of both.
“You promise to be lenient and mild, to let them confess their motives, and to award a gentle penance for their sins?”
“Yes, we promise!”
“Then, come in, my lads, and plead for your lives.”
As he spoke the major threw open the door, and two gentlemen entered the room—one, slight and dark, with brilliant black eyes; the other tall and large, with blond hair and beard. Angry, bewildered, and shame-stricken as they were, feminine curiosity overpowered all other feelings for the moment, and the girls sat looking at the culprits with eager eyes, full of instant recognition; for though the disguise was off, and neither had seen them in their true characters but once, they felt no doubt, and involuntarily exclaimed,—
“Karl!”