“Very well, then, I will venture.  So you can turn back, driver, and leave my luggage at the post-office opposite the market-place, and I’ll send for it.  Wait.  Hand me down that black satchel, and I’ll take it with me.”

“But it’s too heavy for you to carry, Fraeulein, and I can’t leave my horses to take it for you,” objected the coachman.

“Well, then, give it to that gentleman yonder.  It’s not very far to our garden gate.  Will you please take that black leather satchel, sir—­the one on the back seat with the heavy straps.  Can’t you hurry?”

The little foot stamped impatiently on the ground, for the master of Burgsdorf stood and stared at her with open mouth.  It was something new to him to be commanded and disposed of in this way by a young woman; but at the last imperious words he came bashfully forward and took the satchel from the driver’s hand.  The young lady evidently thought it the most natural thing in the world to ask his assistance.

“There,” she said, shortly.  “Now, driver, go back to the post-office, and I’ll pick my way through the Waldhofen mud.”

She gathered her gray traveling cloak and frock around her and stepped along quickly, picking her way carefully as she went, and keeping as close as possible to the low hedge which bordered the road, while Willibald, of whom she took no notice, trotted on behind with her belongings.  He thought he had never seen anything half so lovely as this graceful, slender creature, who scarcely reached up to his shoulder, and he feasted his eyes on the little figure as he followed after.

There was something more than ordinarily gracious and pleasing in the young girl’s movements, and in her whole appearance, and she carried her little head with its mass of curly dark hair which no hat could keep concealed, with a jaunty air.  Her features were irregular, but they wore an expression of saucy defiance, which with her large, dark eyes and rosy mouth, and the little dimple in the chin, made up for all imperfections of contour.  The gray traveling costume, while simple in the extreme, was well and tastefully made, and told that its fair wearer was of another world than that of Waldhofen.

The road, after they had rounded the bend, was, as Willibald said, much drier, though they still had to keep close to the low, hedge-hidden wall, and take very careful steps to avoid the wet, muddy hollows.  There was no conversation between the two.  Will would never have thought of speaking, so he trudged on patiently, while his guide hurried forward as rapidly as the way would permit, and apparently never troubling herself about the meek burden-bearer in the rear.

In about ten minutes they reached a low garden gate at which the girl stopped abruptly.  She leaned over, and pulling out a little wooden bar, opened it.  Then she turned to her escort, if such he could be called, and said: 

“I thank you, sir.  Please give me my satchel now.”