Part 22 (2/2)

But this evening he was so much taken up with his own experiences that for the moment he put his nephew's affairs aside.

”I can tell you, you were very foolish,” he said, ”not to go with me to Aunt Maren's. We have had such a jolly evening, I'm sure you would have enjoyed it. The fact is, it was a sort of farewell party in honor of a young lady who's leaving town to-morrow.”

A horrible foreboding seized Cousin Hans.

”What washer name?” he shrieked, gripping his uncle by the arm.

”Ow!” cried his uncle, ”Miss Beck.”

Then Hans collapsed upon the bench.

But scarcely had he sunk down before he sprang up again, with a loud cry, and drew out of his coat-tail pocket a knubbly little object, which he hurled away far down the avenue.

”What's the matter with the boy?” cried Uncle Frederick, ”What was that you threw away?”

”Oh, it was that confounded Blucher,” answered Cousin Hans, almost in tears.--Uncle Frederick scarcely found time to say, ”Didn't I tell you to beware of Blucher?” when he burst into an alarming fit of laughter, which lasted from the Palace Hill far along Upper Fort Street.

THE END.

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