THE room in which Dacre had been asked to wait was evidently Professor Elslers study. It was large, and from floor to ceiling the walls were lined with books. There was a writing-table near one of the narrolv windows, and there were other tables heaped with pamphlets, microscopes, loose papers, and boxes, probably holding specimens. When he was first shown in Dacre thought the room was empty, but as he looked round he saw that a child sat in a corner by the porcelain stove, and that she had an open book in her hands and was staring at him over the top of it. She was a quaint little figure with two thick plaits of red hair, long greenish eyes, and a pale, clear skin. She was dressed in black, and before Dacres sudden appearance she had evidently been crying. How do you do he said to her in German. The child got up and came towards him, offering him her hand. How do you do she said in English. You speak English already said Dacre in surprise. How old are you I am ten, said the child. But my mother was English. She spoke German as you do, and she never spoke it to me. A a The Professors Legacy, Dacre looked at the childs blackfrock, and remembered hearing that Professor Elsler had recently lost his wife. Have you any brotherj and sisters he asked. No, said the child I wish I had. Have j ou I have one sister. What is her name I Joan. What is yours Rosamund Antonia Margarethe. But I am only called Rosamund. How old is your sister Sixteen. Quite old, said the child, with a sigh. Has she come to Fichtenstadt with you No she is at home in England. Dacre had sat down, and the child stood beside him, looking at his face, taking his measure. As she looked she came a little nearer. Then she put one kand on his knee. Then he put his arm round her, and they smiled at each other. After that they felt that they were friends. The young man had a strong, clean-shaven face, dark hair, and dark grey eyes. The glance of his eyes was steady and honest, and sometimes smiling. He was tall, and he had the tanned colour of a man who has lived out of doors a good deal. What were you reading when I came in he asked. He was not in the least shy of the child, as many young men fresh from college would hdve been. I was not reading at all. This is an atlas, not a book, and I have to fill in a skeleton-map with the German States, and Ive made Wiirtemberg and Elsass so big that there is no room in between for Baden. last week when we did England I left out three counties because there was noi room, and the gecgraphy mistress said it must absolutely not happen 2 The Professors Legacy again. I know what she will do. First she will laugh, and then she will pin it upon the blackboard for every one to see, and Beate Rassmann will call me a donkey again. If she does I shall put out my tongue at her. What will hsppen then They will probably write and tell my father that1 am the naughtiest child in the school, said Rosamund, with profound gloom. They did so last term. What had you been up to It was in thedrawing lesson, when we each have a piece of bread given us for rubbing out. Sophia R s s , manns piece was close to me, and . . . I ate it. That was naughty, said Dacre. . Beate Rassmann is never naughty. She says her parents do not wish her to sociate with me. I shant cry in school to-morrow. I shall say I couldnt bother to do it no better. But if I use a sharp knife nd am careful, I could scratch out those boundary-lines said Dacre, who - had looked at the skeleton-map. Then, if you are careful and use a fine pen, you would get it right. The childs eyes were fixed on him in adoration, and she kept close at his side when he sat down at the writing table and began to erase the erring lines. Now then,. he said, getting up when he had done, try with pencil first, and while you are about it put in Lorraine and the Palatinate too...