only one—but it's so weighty that it counts for dozens, and it is quite certain, I have it on the best authority—you know that I am reliable, Ditlinde; this very evening it will be in the Courier and to-morrow the whole town will be talking about it."
"Yes, Jettchen," said the Princess," it must be confessed you never come with empty hands; but now we're excited, do tell us your news."
"Very well. Let me get my breath. Do you know, Ditlinde, does your Royal Highness know, does your Grand Ducal Highness know who's coming, who is coming to the spa, who is coming for six or eight weeks to the Spa Hotel to drink the waters?"
"No," said Ditlinde, "but do you know, dear Jettchen?"
"Spoelmann," said Fräulein von Isenschnibbe. "Spoelmann," she said, leaned back and made as if to draw with her fingers on the table-edge, but checked the movement of her hand just over the blue silk border.
The brothers and sister looked doubtfully at each other.
"Spoelmann?" asked Ditlinde.… "Think a moment, Jettchen, the real Spoelmann?"
"The real one!" Her voice cracked with suppressed jubilation. "The real one, Ditlinde! For there's only one, or rather only one whom everybody knows, and he it is whom they are expecting at the Spa Hotel—the great Spoelmann, the giant Spoelmann, the colossus Samuel N. Spoelmann from America!"
"But, child, what's bringing him here?"
"Really, forgive me for saying so, Ditlinde, but what a question! His yacht or some big steamer is bringing him over the sea of course, he's on his holidays making a tour of Europe and has expressed his intention of drinking the spa waters."
"But is he ill, then?"
