wine excellent, but somehow the little party
did not seem to be quite at ease. Josef, it is
true, ate and drank unrestrained by shyness;
but Kätchen was too full of wonder at the
unexpected honour to feel much appetite, and
Herr Ebner blinked nervously through his
spectacles, and hesitated and stammered in his
speech in a very disconcerting manner. When
the dinner was over, the guests rose to take
their leave, Josef protesting that he must go,
as he had "so many things to attend to."
Ebner accompanied them to the entrance-hall,
and there bashfully offered a bunch of roses to
Kätchen. He had had them gathered in his
little garden during dinner-time, and now they
were lying ready to be presented in a tasteful
little straw basket. Kätchen took the fragrant
June roses with a smile and a bright blush of
pleasure. It was certainly very nice to be
treated like a real lady, and she was quite
enough of a coquette to enjoy the consciousness
of being admired. But all of a sudden she
gave a start, and the colour left her round
cheeks for a moment, to rush back deeper than
before; for there stood Fritz Rosenheim right
in the door way, looking at her in blank astonishment.
He had a long driving-whip in his hand
and wore his smartest suit—a bright blue
postilion's jacket, studded with silver buttons,
leathern breeches, and high boots coming above
the knee; and in his low-crowned hat, stuck
on one side of his head, was fastened a bunch
of rich red carnations, the gift, probably, of
some coquettish chambermaid or landlady along
his line of route.

"Good day, Fritz," said Kätchen, desperately,
speaking first; for poor Fritz's presence
of mind seemed clean gone. He muttered some
salutation in reply, and then turned to grasp
the hand which Josef Kester heartily held out
to him. "Welcome, Fritz, my boy," said he;
"I expected you to-day, for I heard news of
you from old Nelbeck." Then Fritz dropped his
hat respectfully to the landlord of the Black
Eagle, who gravely nodded in return.

"I've brought some travellers from Ischl,
sir," said Fritz; "a foreign lady and gentleman
and their courier. I told them they couldn't
be anywhere better treated or more comfortable
than at the Black Eagle in Gossan."

"They will be taken care of, kutscher. I
hope you have seen to your horses. Yes—eh?
Well, then, go and tell the kellver to give you
a bottle of Rudesheimer to drink my health in."

Fritz touched his hat again, and made way
for the Kesters to pass out. Josef said, as he
went away, "See you to-night, Fritz; you'll
come and smoke a pipe in the old kitchen as
usual."

Kätchen walked home in a state of ill humour
that darkened her pretty childish face. She was
vexed that Fritz should have come upon her just
when he did—vexed to see him touch his hat
like a servant to the man at whose table she
had been dining—vexed with poor Herr Ebner
for his good nature in treating the kutscher to
wine. Why should Fritz accept his wine?  He
was able to pay for it. And vexed above all
with her father for inviting the young man to
come and "smoke a pipe in the kitchen as
usual." As usual! What would the landlord
of the Black Eagle think of them? He never
smoked pipes in the kitchen with a kutscher.
This last was a very unworthy thought, and
ungenerous towards Fritz, who would never
have been ashamed of association with her
before the highest in the land. But then I really
do believe old Josef had been right about the
moonshine. Still, objecting as he did to any
semblance of love-making between Rosenheim
and his daughter, he should not have encouraged
the young man to come to his house.
But this was Josef's way—one of the many
weaknesses in his easy-going nature that had
helped to smooth the down-hill path on which
he had slidden so rapidly from comfort to
poverty. He liked Fritz. The young fellow's
cheery talk and pleasant manner, and the news
he brought from the busier world he traversed
in his journeys, were very agreeable stimulants
after the sluggish monotony of life at the
Golden Lamb. And, like many inert men,
Josef Kester loved nothing better than to
witness and hear of traits of energy and activity
in which he was not expected to participate.
As to the after consequences of all this familiar
intercourse, why, that would come all right
somehow. The young folks would make love a
little—why not?—but it would be all in a wild
and purposeless sort of way, that would hurt
neither of them very deeply. He could be
very angry when any one took it for granted
that the moonshine meant something real, and
spoke as old Nelbeck had spoken. Not the
less angry, perhaps, from a secret self-reproach
in the matter. But the moment Fritz
reappeared he could not resist the temptation of his
company, and, besides, the young man couldn't
be so desperately in earnest. In this he was
thoroughly mistaken; but it was a comfortable
theory, which lightened his own responsibility,
and therefore Josef Kester clung to it.

On the 10th of December will be published, stitched in a
cover, price Fourpence,

MUGBY JUNCTION.

THE EXTRA NUMBER FOR CHRISTMAS.

CONTENTS

BARBOX BROTHERS  .  .  .  .  .  .      By CHARLES DICKENS.

BARBOX BROTHERS AND CO. .      By CHARLES DICKENS.

MAIN LINE. THE BOY AT MUGBY  .  By CHARLES DICKENS.

No. 1 BRANCH LINE.         THE }        By CHARLES DICKENS.
     SIGNALMAN                          }

No. 2 BRANCH LINE. THE         }        By ANDREW HALLIDAY.
        ENGINE DRIVER                }

No. 3 BRANCH LINE. THE         }        By CHARLES COLLINS.
     COMPENSATION HOUSE    }

No. 4 BRANCH LINE. THE         }        By HESBA STRETTON.
TRAVELLING POST-OFFICE   }

No. 5 BRANCH LINE. THE         }         By AMELIA B. EDWARDS.
       ENGINEER                          }