When Eric returned to Gravenhaag, whom should he see but his uncle, Mr. Van Rasseulger? And he being the last person in the world that Eric would have thought of meeting there, of course he was decidedly surprised.

“Uncle John!” he exclaimed, joyfully. “Who would have thought of seeing you here?”

“You wouldn’t, I’ll wager, young man, or you’d not have gone wild goosing it over the water at Amsterdam.”

“I’ve had a glorious time!” exclaimed Eric. “I’ve been walking upon the bottom of the Zuyder Zee.”

“It’s high time somebody arrived to look after you.”

“But, uncle John, it was perfectly safe. Mr. Lacelle is an experienced diver; and the landlord under whose care papa left me gave me permission. Besides, nothing happened—”

“How stout and healthy you have grown!” exclaimed Mr. Van Rasseulger, interrupting Eric. “If Johnny has improved as much as you have, I shall send him abroad frequently.”

“How is Johnny? He was ill when uncle Charlie wrote to me.”

“Ill!” exclaimed Johnny’s fond papa, instantly growing anxious. “What did the doctor say, Eric?”

“Only that I must wait here a day or two, until Johnny was well enough to come on.”

“And where were they when he wrote?”

“At Paris,” said Eric.

“I meant to stay with you to-night,” said his uncle; “but I believe I shall take the boat to Antwerp to-night, and catch the Express to Paris. I must look after my boy.”

“O, please take me with you,” pleaded Eric. “Mr. Lacelle is going to stay at Amsterdam, and I shall be terribly lonesome here, all alone again.”

“Well, get your things together. Can you be ready in two hours?”

“In ten minutes,” cried Eric, gayly: “mamma did all my packing before she left. I’ve only to tumble a few things into my travelling-bag, and to feed myself and Froll.”

“The little monkey? I’ve made her acquaintance. We’re quite good friends.”

“Uncle John, if you haven’t seen the doctor or Johnny, how did you find me?” said Eric, who had been puzzling himself with this question for some time.

“Entirely by accident,” replied his uncle. “I arrived here about two hours since, and, finding all your names on the register, supposed I had stepped right into a family party; but then I learned that your father and mother, and that bundle of mischief called Nettie, had gone home, and that Mynheer Eric had gone to Amsteldamme to explore the mysteries of the bottom of the sea. I was so frightened that if there had been a chance of hitting you, I should have gone directly after you.”

“I wish you had,” said Eric, “in time to have gone down into the water.”

Mr. Van Rasseulger, for all his talk about Eric’s expedition, was heartily pleased with his brave little nephew, and was thinking to himself such an honest, energetic, courageous boy would make his way well in the world.

Eric had no idea that he was a particularly interesting boy. He was large and strong for his age, easy in his manners, and had a frank, joyous countenance, surmounted by thick, brown, curly hair. His eyes were very honest eyes indeed, often opening wide in a surprised way, when they saw anything not quite right, and blazing and flashing upon the aggressor when they witnessed wrong, cruelty, or injustice. He had been brought up upon the creed, “First of all, do right; and be a gentleman.” And being thoughtful, careful, and obedient, he was trusted and respected as few boys of his age rarely deserve to be.

Of course he had his faults. No young lad is without them. But the difference between Eric and other boys was, that when he became conscious of a fault in his character, he immediately set about overcoming it, and therefore soon got rid of it. But he was obliged to keep a very careful watch over himself, for little faults creep into one’s character faster than the little weeds spring up in the flower garden, and, like the weeds, too, if at once removed are almost harmless, but if allowed to spread and flourish they soon spoil the entire character, as the weeds spoil the garden.

While we have been moralizing, Eric has eaten his supper, neatly packed up the few things left about, and, with Froll and his travelling-bag, starts from the Vyverberg for Paris.

A very common-looking steamboat took them to Antwerp. There is not much to relate of their journey, for Eric’s adventures had so tired him that he slept all the way, only awakening to take the cars at Antwerp, and rousing once again to know they were passing through Brussels, and to hear his uncle say that the finest altar in the world was in the cathedral there. They arrived at Paris about noon of the next day, and, after considerable trouble, found that Dr. Ward had taken rooms in a hotel in the Place VendÔme, whither they at once repaired.

Eric wanted to give his uncle and cousin a surprise. So Mr. Van Rasseulger did not send up their names, but they stole softly up the stairs, and opened the door.

Johnny was alone, lying upon the floor, with a very fretful, discontented expression upon his countenance.

He turned his head towards the door, and there, upon the threshold, blushing and laughing, stood Eric; and, better still, behind him was papa. The child uttered a joyful cry, and sprang into his father’s arms, who hurried to meet him, exclaiming,—

“My boy, my Johnny-boy, what is the matter?”

“It’s only the mumps,” said Johnny, reassuringly, and holding out his hand to Eric. “O, ain’t I glad you’ve come!” he added. “It’s awful dull here, uncle Charlie is away at the hospital so much.”

“Well, how have you been, excepting the mumps?” inquired his father, relieved enough to find nothing serious the matter with his petted boy.

“Bully!” exclaimed John, very improperly. “See how strong I’m getting, papa!” and he threw out his fist suddenly, giving his father a very uncomfortable punch in the side.

“I’m glad you didn’t illustrate on me,” said Eric, laughing. “Uncle John, are you a tester?”

“I’m an attestor, certainly,” replied his uncle. “Johnny, if you demonstrate your power of strength so forcibly and practically, some one will apply oil of birch to you.”

“Then I’ll be in first-rate running order,” retorted Johnny, “and you’ll have to take me to Strasbourg.”

“Indeed,” said his father, “I think so.”

As they all sat, merrily talking, Dr. Ward returned, and was pleased and surprised enough to find his unexpected guests. His greeting was very cordial.

Eric he was particularly glad to see; he had been worried about leaving him so long, alone, at the Hague; and Johnny had been too ill to travel or to be left with strangers, and Eric was too inexperienced, his uncle thought, to go from the Hague to Paris alone. So it was quite a relief to find him safely at hand.

“And now,” he said, after talking about home affairs for quite a while, “I see my way out of a dilemma. I have been anxious to attend two or three medical lectures at Heidelberg, and if you will look after the boys for a day or two, I can have my desire.”

“Certainly; I will for a day or two. At the end of that time I must go home. Here’s this dutiful boy of mine, with never a word for mamma, Annie, or Adolphe.

“Well,” said Johnny, remonstrating, “you took me so by surprise, papa, that I forgot all about them.”

“Your filial affection must be strong,” said his father, laughing at him.

Johnny did not like this, and proposed to Eric to take a walk, and “see Paris.”

While they were gone, Mr. Van Rasseulger arranged with the doctor to meet them again at Heidelberg; meanwhile he would keep the boys with him for a week. They would leave Paris the next day, if John was well enough.

Dr. Ward thought he would be.

Mr. Van Rasseulger explained that he had been obliged to visit Rotterdam and Hague suddenly on business, and must go to Vienna, in Austria, and start for home, within a fortnight.

“Don’t neglect to take the boy to Munich, and show him to his grandfather; and don’t forget your promise to ‘make him as hearty and strong as Eric,’” he said.

Poor little Johnny, in the interval between his own birth and that of his baby brother,—a space of seven years,—had been petted and pampered, and almost thoroughly spoiled. His temper had suffered with his constitution, and he became a delicate, sickly child. His parents, while living in New York, had lost three boys, and fearing to lose Johnny, too, had sent him to travel abroad, under Dr. Ward’s care. Mr. Van Rasseulger was a native of Germany, and thought there was no air so invigorating as that breathed in on German soil. He had great hopes of its curing John’s delicacy; and Dr. Ward thought that a strange country and traveller’s hardships would be excellent aids in restoring the boy’s natural health and good-nature.

Meanwhile, Eric was seeing Paris under Johnny’s guidance. To be sure, he could not see much in a day; but he took a look at the war column in the Place VendÔme, saw the Palace of the Tuileries, the Jardin des Plantes, and entertained his little cousin with an account of his visit to the King of Holland, and his submarine diving, both of which Johnny thought very wonderful. Eric was not much concerned at seeing so little of Paris at the time, for he knew that the doctor intended to spend a month there, after visiting Munich. He bought a guide-book while out with Johnny, and then they returned to their rooms in time to see the doctor start for Heidelberg.

“Eric,” said Johnny, when Dr. Ward had gone, “I must show you the American railway here.”

“Why?” said Eric; “I’m sure that is the last thing I came to Paris to see.”

“Now,” said Johnny, importantly, “I suppose you think you know just what it is; but you’re quite as mistaken as if you were a donkey without ears.”

“John!” said his father, reprovingly.

“That was only a ‘simile,’ papa,” answered Johnny, roguishly, as he led Eric out again.

Sure enough, when they reached the railway, Eric found that his idea of it had been far from correct.

“It is nothing at all but an omnibus running upon rails,” he said: “I don’t see why they call it American.”

“It isn’t anything like as nice as our street cars—is it?” answered Johnny, with a flourish of national pride quite pardonable in so young an American.

Just then the conductor, supposing the two boys wished to be passengers, saluted them politely, exclaiming, “Complete, complete!” and the omnibus rolled off along the rails.

“What did he mean?” asked Eric, quite puzzled.

“He said the coach was full,” Johnny replied. “They are never allowed to carry more passengers than there are seats for.”

“That is still less and less like an American railway,” said Eric, laughing, and thinking of the crowded cars and overstrained horses he had so often seen and pitied, wearily perambulating the streets of New York.

“Let’s have some cake and coffee,” Johnny proposed, as they were strolling towards home. “I think French coffee is hard to beat.”

“When I was your age,” remarked Eric, “mamma almost decided to live in Paris; but I am very glad she did not, for I think New York a great deal nicer.”

Johnny led the way to a cafÉ—that is, a coffee-house,—and here they regaled themselves with rolls and delicious coffee.

Eric was shocked to see Johnny appropriate a couple of cakes and two lumps of sugar, left over from their repast, and convey them to his pocket.

“Why, Johnny!” he exclaimed, in a tone of mortification.

“They all do so,” said John, laughing. “A Frenchman thinks he has a right to everything that he pays for. Watch the others.”

Eric looked around and saw several Frenchmen, who had finished their lunch, following John’s example.

“Well,” said he, “if I should do that at Millard’s, how they would all stare!”

Johnny was quite pleased with his own importance in being able to show Eric around the city, and proposed several places that they “ought to see.” But the afternoon was waning, and a damp, chilly breeze sprang up, which Eric knew, from experience, was not at all good for the mumps. So he very prudently hurried Johnny home, holding forth Froll’s loneliness as an additional inducement.