"Has he many children?" interrupted Hans.
"Only one daughter; but what the deuce—?"
"Good-bye, uncle! I must get home to my books."
"Stop a bit! Aren't you going to Aunt Maren's this evening? She asked me to invite you."
"No, thanks, I haven't time," shouted Cousin Hans, who was alroady several paces away.
"There's to be a ladies' party—young ladies!" bawled Uncle Frederick; for he did not know what had come over his nephew.
But Hans shook his head with a peculiar energetic contempt, and disappeared round the corner.
"The deuce is in it," thought Uncle Frederick, "the boy is crazy, or—oh, I have it!—he's in love! He was standing here, babbling about love, when I found him—outside No. 34. And then his interest in old Schrappe! Can he be in love with Miss Betty? Oh, no," thought Uncle Frederick, shaking his head, as he, too, continued on his way, "I don't believe he has sense enough for that."
II.
Cousin Hans did not eat much dinner that day. People in love never eat much, and, besides, he did not care for rissoles.
At last five o'clock struck. He had already
