Olendorf is not far from Hamburg. The broad and sparkling Elbe washes it on the western side, and with the rugged mountains and the weird grand, old forests upon the north and east, seem to shut the little town quite in from the outer world; yet Olendorf had been an important place and on account of its grand old fortress, Castle Wernier, was a bone of contention throughout the French and German wars; and between the French, who were resolute to hold the fortress, and the barons of Wernier, who were equally resolute to regain it, the castle suffered severely; and when, long years after, peace was declared, the last baron of Wernier died, and the castle came into the possession of Adele Stanley, his great granddaughter, it was merely a grand old ruin.

Adele’s father rebuilt the tower and a couple of wings, and furnished all the habitable rooms, intending to have his little Adele and Herbert spend their childhood there. But while Adele was yet almost a baby, her kind father died. Then she lost her mother, and was for a long time a wanderer among strangers in a foreign land; and the old castle had been uninhabited, except by Gretchen, the gardener’s wife, and the owls in its dark turrets. Now, however, the long windows were thrown open to the fresh breezes and sunshine; merry laughter rang up from the garden; children’s voices echoed among the ruins, and children’s feet danced through the long corridors, keeping time to the music of the happy voices.

Adele and Herbert Stanley were at the castle with their young guests from New York—Eric and Nettie Hyde. They had spent the summer months there; “the happiest months in their lives,” they all declared. Now, alas! the merry season was drawing to a close. Adele was to go to her grandfather’s home in England, Herbert to school at Eton, Nettie with her mother to New York, and Eric was to travel in Holland and the German states with his uncle, Dr. Ward, and his cousin, Johnny Van Rasseulger.

Such a busy day as it was to be! But just now all care was forgotten, even to the regret at parting, in watching the absurd freaks of little Froll, the monkey. Her real name was Frolic; but who ever heard children call a pet by its real name?

Mrs. Hyde called to Nettie, requesting her to do an errand. At the sound of her voice Nettie ran towards her, exclaiming,—

“O, mamma! Adele has given us such a splendid present, to take home with us!”

“What is it, my dear?”

“I love it so dearly! It’s—it’s—”—here Nettie’s voice trembled a little, and her heart knew its own misgivings—“it’s—Froll, mamma, the little darling!”

“And who is Froll, the little darling!”

“That dear little monkey,” answered Nettie, pointing to Froll, now close at hand.

“O,” exclaimed Mrs. Hyde, retreating hastily, “I dislike monkeys, and I cannot have one travelling with me.”

“But, mamma—” said Nettie, piteously.

“You need not think of it, my dear; it is quite impossible,” was the decided reply, to Nettie’s disappointment.

“But may not Eric take her?”

“Uncle Charlie must decide that question: if he has no objections to travelling with an animal that is never out of mischief, I suppose Eric may take charge of her.”

“But then, mamma, Eric will be gone a whole long year—”

“And as you have lived nine whole long years,” interrupted her mother, smiling, “without a monkey, or a desire for one, don’t you think you could survive the separation?”

Nettie didn’t then think she could; but a while after, when Froll chased her with a paint-brush dripping wet with red paint, and then completely spoiled a pretty landscape view that Herbert was painting for her, she changed her mind, and decided that a voyage from Hamburg to New York with such an uncontrollable creature would be, to say the least, inconvenient.

To be sure, papa was to meet them at the Hague, and he might be willing to look to her safe transportation across the Atlantic; but she had not much faith in this argument, and, making a virtue of necessity, resigned herself with becoming grace to her mother’s wishes.

Looking back upon the pleasant summer months at Castle Wernier, the children thought time had never gone so quickly. They were soon to be parted from each other, and their pleasant German home and every object took a new interest to them.

“The value of a thing is never known till we have lost it,” Herbert said, sorrowfully, thinking how lonely Adele and he would become when parted from their companions.

“Nor how dear a place an old castle is, until we are forced to leave it,” said Eric.

“I remember thinking once,” said Nettie, “that this place was horrible. It was when we were all so frightened about the ghost.”

“And all the time I was the ghost,” Adele added; “and I used to think it very hard that I couldn’t speak to you, not knowing that I was frightening you all out of your wits.”

“I suppose more than half the ghosts we read about are only people walking in their sleep, as Adele did,” said Herbert.

“Of course,” said Nettie; “but if we stay here all day, talking about ghosts, what will become of our pets and toys?”

As Herbert and Adele were to start for their home in England when Mrs. Hyde and her children left the castle, all their pets were to be disposed of among the gardener’s children, that is, all but Froll, for Eric was sure that uncle Charlie would not object to having the little creature for a travelling companion; and as Mrs. Hyde would not allow Nettie to take her with her, Froll was to make the tour of Germany with Dr. Ward and the boys.

There were the pony, and the rabbits, and the canary bird, of all which Gretchen’s children were to take the utmost care, until the dear Fraulien and the young Herr should come again. And many and loud were the expressions of affectionate regret at the children’s departure, oddly intermingled with exclamations of delight at the appearance of numerous toys, which Mrs. Nichols and Mrs. Hyde had decided must be left over from the packing.

Then the garden must be visited in every nook and corner. Particular directions must be left with Hans concerning their choice flowers and favorite plants.

And then there was the grand event of the day—the packing up of their own individual treasures, in the shape of books and toys. They worked hard all day, and were very proud of their work when all was accomplished; but, in the dead of night, when they were fast in the “Land o’ Nod,” old mauma, who was prowling around the trunks and hampers to see if all were secure, seemed rather suspicious of one, and knelt down on the floor to examine it, giving it a little shake, by way of test.

“Dear heart alive!” she exclaimed; “just you look here, missis, please. All those little flimpsy toys and things to bottom, an’ the heavy book stuck in any ways to top, an’ all of ’em jolting roun’ like anything!”

Poor tired Mrs. Hyde could not help smiling, as she leaned wearily over the two hampers the children had filled, and gave directions to mauma and Gretchen about repacking them.

The two women soon accomplished what it had taken the children all day to perform; and to their faithful exertions was owing the safe arrival at Fifth Avenue and Ennisfellen of the toys.

Early in the morning the children were aroused to prepare for their journey. They were all in high spirits, and thought dressing and breakfasting by candle-light the “greatest fun in the world;” though it is doubtful if they would have held to their opinion had the practice been continued permanently.

“Nobody wants breakfast so early,” Nettie said, as she laughed and talked in excitement.

“I’m sure nobody wants to lunch on the train,” shouted Eric, across the hall.

“The train, indeed! Why, we shall be aboard the steamer at noon. I like to travel on these European steamers,” Nettie called back.

“I am so glad we are all to travel together to the Hague,” said Adele’s sweet voice. “How quickly you dress, Nettie! But where can my other boot be?”

“I’m sure I don’t know; let’s look for it. Here ’tis.”

“No; that’s your own.”

“Sure enough; and I’ve been all this time doing up yours. Shouldn’t wonder if we did miss the train. And it’s in a knot, and I can’t untie it. Mauma, mauma, bring another light here, quick! and you’d better hurry, Adele.”

“Nettie, did you mean the train was in a knot?” called Herbert.

“No, it’s not,” said Nettie, quickly; and then they all laughed merrily. For, though Nettie’s remark was not particularly brilliant, there was enough in it to amuse the happy, excited hearts around her.

The breakfast received a very slight share of attention. The boys were constantly running below to “see after the horses,” and Nettie was dancing about, in everybody’s way, assuring them all that they would certainly lose the train, and begging Adele, for her own safety, to keep close to her, and not to be nervous on any account.

“I know somebody will forget something!” she exclaimed for the fiftieth time. “Be sure, all of you, to remember.”

“Not to forget,” interrupted Eric, mischievously.

“The carriage has come to the door, Herr Von Nichols!” Gretchen announced, through her tears.

All the Werniers, the ancient holders of the castle, had been Herr Vons; and as Mrs. Nichols was a Wernier, Gretchen had adopted the villagers’ fashion of bestowing the title upon the husband.

The servants were in the hall, sorrowfully awaiting the departure of their kind patrons.

“Good by! Good by!” the children shouted; while the mournful group bade them “God speed.”

“Who’s forgotten anything?” said Nettie, crowding into a corner of the carriage.

“I think you have, my dear,” answered her mother. “Where is your sacque?”

Nettie looked quite dismayed.

“O, I packed it, mamma. I forgot I was to wear this dress.”

There was a general consternation at this confession, until mauma drew the missing article from under her shawl.

“Here ’tis, Miss Nettie. I ’spects you’d want it.”

“I’m ever so much obliged to you, mauma,” said Nettie, eagerly seizing the sacque, and putting herself into it, while Mrs. Hyde rewarded the faithful old colored woman with a grateful smile.

“I was so busy remembering for the others, mamma,” Nettie said, apologetically.

“Perhaps it would be as well for you to attend more particularly to yourself, my dear,” was her mother’s mild rebuke.

Mr. Nichols and the boys were busy stowing boxes and parcels in various hidden compartments of the carriage. Just as Mr. Nichols announced that they were ready to start, Eric thrust his head in at the door, exclaiming, funnily,—

“Mamma, Nettie is so anxious, suppose you all just feel inside your bonnets, to make sure that your heads are here?”

“Don’t detain us, Eric,” his mother said, smiling at the frank, joyous face.

“All right, mamma. This is my load: let me see,—Mrs. Hyde, Adele, Nettie, and mauma. Go ahead, Carl.”

The coachman drew up his reins, and the spirited horses, after curvetting and prancing for an instant, dashed down the avenue, Adele’s and Nettie’s white handkerchiefs floating on the breeze, in a last adieu to Wernier.

They were followed immediately by another carriage, containing Mr. and Mrs. Nichols and the boys; and, except for the group of sorrowing servants, watching the fast-disappearing carriages, Castle Wernier was left alone.