generous share of this world's goods, and the pleasurable thought that
he was engaged to be married to a girl who suited him, and who would, he
knew, make him a good wife.

A heavy, lumbering carriage came up the narrow, uneven road, along which
he was trudging. There was a large trunk strapped on the back, and
various bundles and boxes covered the seats within. Willibald wondered
to himself why any one had chosen such a miserable little lane, which
the recent rains had made totally unfit for vehicles, instead of taking
the wide, decently paved street. The coachman seemed to be in anything
but a happy frame of mind. He turned now in his seat, and said to the
traveler, of whom Willibald had not caught a glimpse:

"Now really Fräulein, we can go no farther. I told you before that we
couldn't get through here, and now you see for yourself how the wheels
stick in the mud--its a pretty piece of business."

"It is not very far," sounded a clear young voice from the depths of the
carriage. "Only a few hundred steps, farther. So please go on no matter
how slowly."

"What can't be done, can't be done!" announced the driver in a
philosophic tone. "I cannot go forward through this mire, and I won't.
We must turn back."

"I will not ride through the town." The clear voice had a decided,
defiant tone this time. "If you won't go through this lane, stop, and
I'll get out here."

The driver stopped at once, clambered down from his seat and opened the