“And he’s coming to dinner to-morrow!  He’s coming, Adrian.”

The child clapped her hands in delight and then ran to Barbara to exclaim once more: 

“Aunt Barbel, did you hear?  He’s coming!”

“With the blue feather,” replied the widow.

“And he has curls, curls as long as Assendelft’s little Clara.  May I go with you to see Cousin Henrica?”

“Afterwards, perhaps,” replied Maria.  “Go now, children, get the flowers and separate them carefully from the leaves.  Trautchen will bring some hoops and strings, and then we’ll bind the wreaths.”

Junker Georg’s remark, that this was a lucky day, seemed to be verified; for the young wife found Henrica bright and free from pain.  With the doctor’s permission, she had walked up and down her room several times, sat a longer time at the open window, relished her chicken, and when Maria entered, was seated in the softly-cushioned arm-chair, rejoicing in the consciousness of increasing strength.

Maria was delighted at her improved appearance, and told her how well she looked that day.

“I can return the compliment,” replied Henrica.  “You look very happy.  What has happened to you?”

“To me?  Oh! my husband was more cheerful than usual, and there was a great deal to tell at dinner.  I’ve only come to enquire for your health.  I will see you later.  Now I must go with the children to a sorrowful task.”

“With the children?  What have the little elf and Signor Salvatore to do with sorrow?”

“Captain Allertssohn will be buried to-morrow, and we are going to make some wreaths for the coffin.”

“Make wreaths!” cried Henrica, “I can teach you that!  There, Trautchen, take the plate and call the little ones.”

The servant went away, but Maria said anxiously:  “You will exert yourself too much again, Henrica.”

“I?  I shall be singing again to-morrow.  My preserver’s potion does wonders, I assure you.  Have you flowers and oak-leaves enough?”

“I should think so.”

At the last words the door opened and Bessie cautiously entered the room, walking on tiptoe as she had been told, went up to Henrica, received a kiss from her, and then asked eagerly: 

“Cousin Henrica, do you know?  Junker Georg, with the blue feather, is coming again to-morrow and will dine with us.”

“Junker Georg?” asked the young lady.

Maria interrupted the child’s reply, and answered in an embarrassed tone: 

“Herr von Domburg, an officer who came to the city with the Englishmen, of whom I spoke to you—­a German—­an old acquaintance.  Go and arrange the flowers with Adrian, Bessie, then I’ll come and help you.”

“Here, with Cousin Henrica,” pleaded the child.

“Yes, little elf, here; and we’ll both make the loveliest wreath you ever saw.”

The child ran out, and this time, in her delight, forgot to shut the door gently.