“It will be a great pleasure to me to give it to such a worthy cause, and you can do me no greater service than to accept it.”

“I do accept it gratefully, for just at this time there are changes to be made in the building, and there was no money to buy the materials and pay for the work.  Only assure me that it will not inconvenience you, and I will accept the generous gift gladly.”

“I can give you this assurance truthfully.  I do not need it and am glad to help in a worthy cause.”

“It is indeed a worthy cause.  At first it appeared to be a hopeless undertaking to try to establish a home on such slender means as we could command, but we have struggled along, and now this sum of money is indeed a Godsend.”

Fritz saw an opportunity for him to speak and going to Mr. Heil took his hand.  “Father,” he said, “I have often thought since leaving home that I should not have brought Pixy to Frankfort, and I knew that you all thought it very foolish in me.  You see now that it was after all a good thing, for through him you have gotten money needed for the home and school.  Had it not been for him, some one might have found it who would not have given it to the owner.”

“Yes, in this instance your foolishness has brought a good result, but, as a rule, trouble follows when a boy does what he knows that his parents would disapprove.  Give the gentleman your hand and thank him for the good gift to our Children’s Home.”

This was done and the stranger thanked him in turn for the good turn Pixy had done him, and Fritz returned to his place beside Aunt Steiner prouder than ever of his dog.

“I have great interest in the Odenwald for the reason that my ancestors belonged to that green mountain region,” remarked the Englishman, “but it has not been in my time that any of them have lived there.  My great grandfather was a German and a native of the Odenwald country.  He married an English lady, and would have lived in England had she not been willing to come to Odenwald which was, in those early days, a wilderness.  She knew that he longed to return to his native land, and said, ‘Whither thou goest I will go.’  When my great-grandfather died, she returned to England with her two sons and her daughter.  One of these sons was my grandfather.  I have held in remembrance my German ancestry, and have wondered if any of the descendants of my great-grandfather’s relatives are in the Odenwald.”

“I think that I can give you some information, Mr. Urich,” replied Mr. Heil.

“How did you know my name?” asked the Englishman in surprise.  “I did not mention it, and you did not ask.”

“There was no need, for I know the history of your family.  Forest-master Urich was the first of the name in the Odenwald, and his son—­your great-grandfather—­was also my great-grandfather on his sister’s side of the house.

“Your great-grandfather was named Otto, and was an educated and cultured gentleman.  Your great-grandmother was named Mary Beyer and was one of four sisters.  Your grandfather, also named Otto, was the second son of the forest-master.  So you see that your family history is also mine, and the same blood runs in our veins, although we do not bear the same name.  The old people of Odenwald have told me what their ancestors have told them of the forest-master, Otto Urich.”