“There you are again with the old story,” said Fani, rather vexed, for this doubt was very distasteful to him.

The time which they had to spend in the garden was now over, and hand in hand they passed back up the white pebbly path, and by the sweet-scented rose-beds, and entered the hall, which stood with wide-open doors on the garden side.

CHAPTER II.

A JOURNEY.

Great was the excitement in the doctor’s house at Buchberg.  July had come at last, and the long-looked-for journey was at hand.  Only one more day!  The big trunk was packed and locked and placed in the lower hall, ready to go.  Now there were only the hand-bags and satchels to be filled with the last needful articles.  This task was not so easy as one might expect, however.  On the contrary, mother and aunty found it the most difficult part of the whole.  For the three older children had received permission to choose each the things which he wanted most to fill up his own bag, with the express understanding that these must be useful things.  But the three had their own definitions of “useful.”  So they worked with all their might, running, breathless, up stairs and down, loaded with most extraordinary articles, most of which were rejected by the packers as utterly unsuitable, and consigned to the places whence they came.

Fred came first with four great boxes under each arm, which were tied up with so many strings, that no accident could have opened them if they had gone all the way round the world.  These he brought to his aunt, while Emma was, at the same time, pressing upon her mother a heavy roll, which she had brought under one arm, and an enormous package which she could scarcely carry.

“Those can’t go, Fred,” said his aunt, decidedly.  “I couldn’t possibly get those eight boxes into this bag, and what’s the use?  You certainly can’t need whatever there is in them.”

“Yes, I do, aunty; six of them are full of living creatures which I must carry with me to take care of them, or they would all die.  The other two have in them specimens of beetles and snails and other things of the same kinds as those I expect to find near the Rhine, but, of course, they are somewhat different, and I want to carry these to compare with those, don’t you see, aunty?  Perhaps if we squeeze the boxes with all our might we can get them in, except those that have the live creatures.”

“No, Fred, it can’t be done,” said his aunt, kindly.  “Take them back into your room; and you needn’t be in the least anxious.  I’ll take care of the live ones while you are gone, and, as to the others, when you want to compare any of them with what you find, write to me about it, and I will send you as good a description as I can make.”

Meantime, Mrs. Stein had been gazing in despair at the two huge, misshapen packages which Emma had placed upon the table to be put into her hand-bag.