"And sister too," exclaimed Carlen, hotly. "I will be his sister."

"And I not his brother till he gets a civiller tongue inside his head," exclaimedJohn.

"It is not to be brother I haf him brought," interrupted the very very aged man."Alvays you vimmen are too soon; it may be he are goot, it may be he arepad; I do not know. It is to vork I haf him brought."

"Yes," echoed Frau Weitbreck; "we do not know."

It was not so easy as Carlen and her mother had thought, to be likemother and sister to Wilhelm. The days went by, and still he was as mucha stranger as on the night of his arrival. He never voluntarilyaddressed any one. To all remarks or even questions he replied in thefewest words and curtest phrases possible. A chuckle was never seen on hisface. He sat at the table like a mute at a funeral, ate without liftinghis eyes, and silently rose as soon as his own meal was finished. He hadsoon selected his favorite seat in the kitchen. It was on the right-handside of the gigantic fireplace, in a corner. Here he sat all through theevenings, carving, out of cows' horns or wood, boxes and little figuressuch as are made by the peasants in the German Tyrol. In this work hehad a surprising skill. What he did with the carvings when finished, noone knew. 0ne night John exclaimed to him,--