It was a queer old room in an old German house; a room large and dim, with two great windows full of diamond-shaped panes, and on the opposite side a huge chimney with a tall, narrow mantel-shelf and a tiled hearth, on which stood two brass griffins, shiny and ferocious.  In the depths in the fire-place, behind the griffins, there Mitz was sobbing.  I say sobbing because the children were playing “house,” and Mitz was supposed to be the baby.  What a fine play-house this big fire-place was in summer!  It had in turn figured as Aladdin’s cave and a school-house; a brigand ambush, and a dwelling with modern improvements.  But now it was growing dark in the big, bare room, and you had to look closely into the back of the hearth to see the two little figures—­one trotting the baby, and the other rocking the doll’s cradle in which two of Mitz’s sisters were tied with cord, for their good, of course.  But Mitz’s piteous cries raised echoes.

“Mieu, mieu!” cried Mitz, trying to claw something under the pillow case.  “Mieu, mieu!” chimed in Mitz’s sisters, while little Hannah trotted desperately, and the doll’s cradle was rocked as if by a small tempest.

[Illustration:  HE WOULDN’T EAT HIS BREAD AND MILK.]

“It’s no use,” said little Hannah, in great perplexity; “all people’s children arn’t always bad!  Mitz—­you wicked Mitz!” And she shook that badly-behaved child.  “He’s been crying ever since we began to play.  He wouldn’t eat his bread and milk, though I tied on his best new bib.  Oh, dear me, Mrs. Liseke, how noisy your children are!  Suppose,” said little Hannah, vainly endeavoring to pacify the indignant Mitz, “suppose, Mrs. Liseke, we take the children out for a walk?”

Out of the hearth crept Hannah, with Mitz hugged to her heart, and her short, round figure all the rounder for an ancient shawl and a venerable cap perched on the top of her plump, rosy face.  Hannah had just passed the brass griffins, when some one burst into the room.  There was a vision of two long stockings with a hole in one knee, a faded velveteen suit, a pair of brass-tipped boots, a bright patch in the seat of the short breeches, and a look of triumph on a round face with a turn-up nose, while a grin, extending from ear to ear, discovered a loss of several front teeth in the big mouth.

“Max, how you frightened me!” cried Hannah; then, “oh, Maxy, what’s the matter?” Mitz was forgotten; he gave a leap, shawl and pillow-case, and before Hannah could prevent, had crept out of his bandages and was standing a free cat, with arched back and a defiant tail.  By this time Mrs. Liseke had come out of the fire-place with her two youngest in her arms.  She was elegantly dressed in a bed-sheet, which trailed behind her and was gracefully tied under her chin.  Mitz’s mother followed, stretching all-fours luxuriously.

No, Max wouldn’t tell.  He plunged two black hands in his breeches’ pockets and made up faces and danced a wild war dance, while Mitz and family fled into various corners.